


An unexpected gift

by Samara Lilly (Amber_Rose)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bittersweet Ending, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley has a vulva, Crying, Cunnilingus, Discussion of Abortion, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Loss, Lots of Crying, M/M, Penis In Vagina Sex, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy, Wings, aziraphale has penis, child birth, loss of a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-01-03 17:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 76,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21183410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Rose/pseuds/Samara%20Lilly
Summary: Aziraphale swallows. This sounds serious, and one thought comes to his mind.“Hastur again?” he asks, afraid that their respective sides finally decided to get back to them.“Not Hastur. Hell hasn’t been in contact. This is entirely different…”“Oh thank god. I really despise this demon. He has already tried to get to you. I won’t allow something like that again.”“Zira, will you please listen to me?” Crowley interrupts. The angel falls silent. Then he nods.“Go on, then,” he says seriously. Crowley takes a step back. He’s searching for the right words.“You know I didn’t feel well lately. The mood swings. The vomiting. The unusual bodily functions. There is a reason for all this.”Crowley takes a deep breath.“I made a test. I am pregnant,” he then says, his voice trembling.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Some words before we start: 
> 
> There will be a lot of crying and angst in this story, but it will turn out okay in the end. But it's a difficult topic, and I am well aware that this is not a feel good story. 
> 
> I am not sure if you can call it mpreg, when Crowley is female for the most part of this story. Maybe not. But I still regard him as mostly male presenting, and therefore it could be read as mpreg. 
> 
> Anyway - there will be some serious discussions between them, that some may find uncomfortable. I will give warnings for this at the beginning of the chapters. 
> 
> I would love to read your thoughts, comments as well as kudos are very much appreciated! Thank you!

Crowley has often enjoyed being a woman. Of course many times it had been difficult, too. But he had always been able to defend himself from any unwanted attention. Being female had it’s advantages. But certainly being able to change gender kept him out of bigger trouble. His last time as a woman was when he had been Warlock’s nanny. He had liked being Nanny Ashtoreth. Especially because he really loved children. When ever he had been able to in his existence, he had helped where help was needed and altered his reports to downstairs on this subject. 

Aziraphale had realized it for the first time when Noah had built his ark. But there had been numerous occasions where Crowley had helped a child or cared for a child. Sometimes for only a few hours, sometimes for months. He never talked about it. It was just something he had to do. For his own sake. Being Nanny Ashtoreth and being able to take care of Warlock for so many years had been an experience he cherished. Of course he also had to follow his instructions. But he had never hurt the boy in any way. 

After the armageddon-that-didn’t-happen things had started to change between Crowley and Aziraphale. They both had known for a long time that their friendship was far more than just that. Crowley had pined after Aziraphale for millennia, if he was honest with himself. And Aziraphale admitted that the true nature of his feelings had revealed themselves during WWII when Crowley had rescued him from this stupid Nazi incident. 

But it had taken them many months after the events on Tadfield airbase - until it had been Crowley who had made the first move. During a nice dinner he had told an anecdote and had somewhere in between put a hand on Aziraphale’s. The angel had stared at him, but hadn’t pulled his hand away. Instead he had started to smile. And that was that. The beginning of something entirely new.

From this dinner on they had worked their way from tentative touches and whispered words of affection to their first kiss, and everything had changed after that. Sure, there had been misunderstandings, fights and tears. But finally they had what they had both longed for. What was to follow was of course the exploration of the pleasures of the flesh. Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley had ever tried to have sex with a human. Far too complicated. But now they felt they both wanted to try it. Here, too, they fought with misunderstandings and failed attempts. But they worked it out. They tried themselves out. And when Crowley proposed he wanted to have sex with Aziraphale while being a woman, Aziraphale had been on board and very… enthusiastic, so to speak. They had a great time. 

So Crowley decided to stay female for a while. No big deal, he had done it plenty of times before. He was happy with it. The sex felt incredible. In fact he himself was the most surprised how much he enjoyed it. He had never thought that having sex and having an orgasm could feel this different depending on the gender. Sure, neither he or Aziraphale had to succumb to such human things as refractory periods and such. But a woman’s natural abilities were stunning, and Crowley loved every minute of it.

***

And so Crowley finds himself at Aziraphale’s kitchen table one morning, dressed only in a pair of boxers and a long t-shirt, waiting for the coffee to be ready. He is dead tired although he has slept for a good 9 hours. Aziraphale is making breakfast. The whole kitchen smells of toast, fried eggs, beans and bacon. When he had woken up, Crowley had felt ravenous. But now his appetite seems to have vanished entirely. All he wants is a cup of coffee. And another nap. 

Aziraphale is just about to start a plate for Crowley, when the demon stops him.  
“I’m sorry, angel, but I’m not hungry. I would only like some coffee.”  
Aziraphale turns to him. He’s in a tartan pyjama and looks so lovely… all soft and round, his blond curls still a mess from last night’s activities.  
“You don’t? But you told me half an hour ago how hungry you were.”  
“I know, but can’t a girl change her mind?”  
“You are barely a girl, Crowley…” Aziraphale grins, but comes over nonetheless to plant a kiss on Crowley’s forehead. His hair is a little longer now, falling down onto his shoulders, and Crowley spends a good amount of time styling it in front of a mirror. Now it’s still mussed up from sleep, and Crowley pushes the red strands behind his ears.  
“Coffee, please?” he smiles up at Aziraphale.  
“Oh and now I am the one to eat all this… You’re doing this on purpose, don’t you? Want me even more soft around the middle,” Aziraphale chides with a smile.  
“I love your soft middle. You know that.” Crowley watches as Aziraphale turns back to the worktop. The smell of coffee permeates the air, when Aziraphale pours him his favourite mug - the one with the picture of a mandarin duck on it. Crowley adds two spoons of sugar and sighs when he takes the first sip. He stretches his impossibly long legs under the table and watches Aziraphale fill his own plate with breakfast. 

When the angel sits down opposite him, he sees how Crowley looks at his plate.  
“Sure you don’t want anything? There is plenty left,” he offers.  
“Better not.”  
But of course Crowley steals one of Aziraphale’s toasts and even dips it into the egg yolk of Aziraphale’s fried egg - something he usually never does. But apart from that he only sips his coffee and after breakfast retreats back into Aziraphale’s bedroom for another nap. 

A few days later Crowley is pushing the contents of his meal around on his plate. They are in a new restaurant Aziraphale had insisted they try out. Crowley has only eaten part of the vegetables. The chicken that is still on his plate makes him nauseous, even when he only looks at it. Far worse is the smell of Aziraphale’s dish. He has ordered something with seabass. It seems to be delicious, but Crowley is subtly retreating from the table, shoving his chair back inch by inch. As usual Aziraphale is talking about something he just read in a book, but Crowley is not paying attention. He feels miserable. He shouldn’t have eaten at all. And suddenly the feeling of nausea is overwhelming. He jumps to his feet, lets his fork fall onto his plate with a loud clatter and only manages a “Sorry, I have to…” and hurries towards the restrooms. 

Crowley barely manages to lock himself into one of the stalls, before he throws up violently into the toilet. He gasps for breath between the bouts of vomiting. His stomach muscles are clenching until they hurt, and tears run down his face. When his stomach is finally empty, he flushes the toilet and grabs some toilet paper to wipe his mouth. He lowers the lid of the toilet seat and slumps down onto it, still shaking. 

Aziraphale is surprised, when Crowley suddenly leaves the table with only a muttered apology and practically runs to the restrooms. He had been quiet all evening. But leaving in such a hurry is not normal for Crowley. Aziraphale considers for a moment, until he decides to go looking for him. He walks over to the restrooms and knocks at the door to the ladies room.  
“Crowley?”  
When there is no answer, he pushes the door open. “Hello?” 

A woman emerges from one the stalls.  
“Wrong door,” she smirks at him, and goes to the sink to wash her hands.  
“No, I… I’m looking for my girlfriend. She seems to feel unwell.”  
“Oh, the poor thing throwing up in the stall next to mine?” The woman grabs some tissues and dries her hands.  
“Better bring her home, I would suggest.” She smiles at him, then leaves the restroom. 

Aziraphale gently knocks at the locked door. “Crowley, darling, are you in there?”  
“Yeah, just… give me a moment.”  
“You should have said that you’re not feeling well. I’m going to pay the bill, and then I’m taking you home.”  
“Sorry I ruined our dinner.”  
“No need to apologize. I’ll wait for you at the table. Can you drive or shall we take a cab?”  
“I can drive. Not going to leave the Bentley here.”  
“Oh… alright. Take your time.”

Crowley listens to Aziraphale’s footsteps and then the door opening and closing. He takes another deep breath. The nausea subsides, but doesn’t stop entirely. He pulls a face. If that is what humans have to deal with from time to time he is thankful for being a demon. He practically never falls ill. Strange… When he is able to stand up, he feels a little weak, but desperately wants to leave and never return to this restaurant. After washing his hands and rinsing his mouth, he checks himself in the mirror above the sink. He looks better than he feels. For his change into a woman he has also made his facial features a little more female. The flush in his cheeks may well be from the exertion of throwing up. How embarrassing… 

Crowley drives Aziraphale back to his bookshop. Of course the angel makes a big fuss about Crowley feeling sick (and in fact he still feels like he could throw up again), until Crowley snaps at him and tells him, he’s going to spend the night at his own flat. To sleep and recover. Aziraphale tries to convince him otherwise so he can look after him. But all Crowley wants now is to climb into his bed and sleep. For at least some days. He tells Aziraphale so, and the angel accepts defeat. But Crowley promises to call, once he feels better, and so their ways part in front of the bookshop.

Crowley sleeps for four days straight. Long naps are common for him, so neither of them pay that any attention. And he does feel better when he wakes and calls Aziraphale to come over and bring some Chinese take away. Of course Aziraphale does, and after a round of hot reunion sex they heat the food in the microwave and eat it in bed. 

The next morning Crowley rushes to the bathroom, sick from the smell of food in his bedroom, and throws up. Aziraphale makes a great fuss again, until Crowley yells a little at him, apologizes and lets himself been taken care of by his angel who makes him tea and later on some toast, miracles the bedroom clean of every nasty smell and eats him out later on, because Crowley feels much better already. And how could Aziraphale resist, when after his first orgasm, Crowley wants another, demanding to be fucked, and he comes two more times while Aziraphale is inside him. Aziraphale doesn’t complain, but still it’s a litte strange.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some smut ahead!

Aziraphale is reading, when Crowley wakes from his little post coital nap. They are both still naked, and when Crowley’s hand sneaks towards Aziraphale’s cock, the angel is surprised.  
“Again?” he asks, while Crowley caresses his cock. Of course it’s interested (isn’t it the whole time since they finally got together?) and jumps under the soft touch.  
“You are always so good to me, Zira… You always make me feel so good…” Crowley murmurs and presses his lips to Aziraphale’s belly, where he had rested his head for his nap.  
Aziraphale puts his book aside.  
“And isn’t that my pleasure?” he smiles and cards his hand through Crowley’s hair.  
“I know how much you want my body. You are a naughty little angel, aren’t you?”  
“You are a temptation I can’t resist, my darling.”  
“So I ruined you forever, hm? Tainted you.” Crowley’s clever fingers pump his already hard cock a few times.  
“I do fear so. But since I am already tainted, I might as well bring you the pleasure you deserve.”  
“Oh that sounds so good…” 

Without any more hesitation Crowley straddles Aziraphale’s lap and bends down to kiss him long and deep. Aziraphale’s hands squeeze his buttocks, then trail along his flanks and to his front. He gently cups the breasts he has come to love so much. Crowley’s body is a perfect wonder. An inspiration. A constant source of joy. But his body would be nothing without the witty, sharp mind and most of all the never ending love the demon feels for him and shows him when ever he can. Aziraphale breaks their deep kiss. He starts to move his lips to Crowley’s beautiful neck. His red hair is only shoulder length, so he can kiss where ever he likes and makes Crowley moan softly. The demon smiles, as the warm lips trail further down. But he flinches, when Aziraphale’s lips close around his nipple and give a gentle suck. Aziraphale immediately lets go. 

“Am I too rough?”  
“I…” Crowley sits up a little straighter and instinctively cups his breasts. “Sorry, I’m a little sore. It’s our third round. Maybe we’ve overdone it a little.”  
“Don’t be sorry. Shall we stop?”  
“No.” Crowley grinds against Aziraphale’s hard cock that pushes against his vulva. He’s still wet from his last orgasms and Aziraphale’s come.  
“No. Just… let me have this.” He lifts his hips, then snakes a hand between them, positions Aziraphale’s erection against his opening and slowly sinks down. 

Aziraphale gasps. It always feels incredible to sink into this wonderful wet heat. But if he is completely honest with himself: what he enjoys most is, that Crowley let’s him do this. That he wants him. Him! That he gives himself over to him and their shared pleasure. He loves it, when Crowley takes his pleasure and shows him how much he enjoys himself. Just like now. The demon lifts his hips and sinks down on the angel’s hard cock in a slow, steady rhythm. His head it thrown back, he is smiling and looks radiant. Aziraphale caresses Crowley’s moving body with both hands. His skin is so warm and smooth. It feels like the finest silk. Crowley moves a little faster now. He supports himself with his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders. What a sight he is! His breasts are on the smaller side, a perfect match for his lean body, his nipples pert and red and beautiful. His red hair is falling in waves down onto his shoulders and shimmers like copper in the dim light of the bedroom. 

“Oh angel… so good… You feel so good inside me…” Crowley breathes, and Aziraphale’s heart skips a beat.  
“You feel wonderful, my darling… so soft, like velvet. So warm. I love you so much, my dearest, so much…”  
Crowley looks down at him, lips parted and in a half smile. His hips are pressed against Aziraphale’s now, he wriggles a little and moans softly.  
“How I love you, angel… so perfect…”  
“Take what you need,” Aziraphale encourages him.  
“Need you. Fuck me, angel…” demands Crowley breathlessly. 

“Your wish is my command,” answers Aziraphale. He pulls Crowley close, then flips them both until Crowley is on his back. He smiles at him.  
“You really are insatiable, my dearest.”  
“Stop talking and show me what an angel is made of.”  
“You’re talking to a principality. Be careful, darling.”  
“Don’t care about careful. Just do me, will you?”  
And Aziraphale does. His thrusts are deep, the pace he knows Crowley loves and he knows is driving him mad with want and lust. Crowley claws at Aziraphale’s shoulders, head thrown back.  
“Yes, yes, yes… like that! Oh angel, you’re so good to me!”

Aziraphale smiles and fucks him in earnest now: long, deep thrusts that make the demon moan and sigh. At a certain point Crowley slips his hand between their bodies and starts to touch himself. As much as he enjoys being fucked, he needs a little extra stimulation to come. But he is pretty worked up already, and every touch to his sensitive swollen clit makes him gasp and shudder, already in anticipation of another powerful orgasm. Aziraphale feels him shudder, one of Crowley’s legs is trembling uncontrollably, his back is arched, his hand between their bodies working frantically. 

“Can you come like this, dearest? Can you come for me?” Aziraphale gasps. He feels his own climax building. This is too good…  
“Angel - oh angel, don’t stop! Don’t stop!” Crowley’s face is full of bliss, he’s smiling, cheeks pink, and then his body is convulsing around Aziraphale’s cock while he is singing out his pleasure. Aziraphale’s rhythm falters, but he’s still trying to make it good for Crowley, to make his orgasm last. He can come for ages, when he is female, and he can come multiple times in a row. But Aziraphale feels his control slip. The feeling is so intense, he can’t keep himself from coming any longer. He shouts, when he comes, pounding deep into Crowley’s cunt. Crowley puts both hands on his cheeks, one of them wet and sticky, and pulls him into a bruising kiss. 

Aziraphale sighs, when he pulls out and sits up on his haunches. It’s no secret that he loves to watch his come leak out of Crowley’s body. But now, when he looks down, he is alarmed.  
“Oh Crowley, you are bleeding!”  
“What?”  
Crowley sits up, and they both stare in shock at the bloody stains on the sheet. Aziraphale inspects his softening cock and finds a smidge of blood on it, too.  
“Oh god, are you in pain? Did I hurt you?” He is shocked and anxious. This did never happen before!  
“No, I… I’m fine.”  
“But you can’t be if you are bleeding! Let me see!” Aziraphale demands and tries to push at Crowley’s thighs to open them wider. Crowley beats his hands away.  
“What are you doing? As I just said, I’m fine! Nothing hurts. It’s just this stupid human form.”  
“But I must have done something to make you bleed!” Aziraphale looks horrified.  
Crowley leaves the bed. “Stop that! You didn’t hurt me!”  
“But then why is there blood?”  
“I don’t know!” Crowley turns to leave for the bathroom.  
“Crowley! Where are you going?”  
“Having a wash, what do you think? Change the sheets, will you?”

Despite his cool choice of words, after he closes the bathroom door he immediately reaches between his thighs. His cunt is swollen, maybe a little sore, but noting out of the ordinary. He has felt like this many times with Aziraphale now. When he pulls his hand away, there is in fact blood mixed into Aziraphale’s semen and his own juices. But it’s true what he has said to Aziraphale: he feels fine. He doesn’t hurt. Can’t be a real damage, then. He grabs a flannel and turns on the tap to wash away the fluids. 

When he returns to the bedroom, Aziraphale has in fact miracled some clean sheets. He sits on the edge of the bed and gets up, when Crowley comes back.  
“Everything alright?”  
“Yes, angel, don’t be so upset,” Crowley smiles.  
“How can you be so cool about his? I’m only concerned for you well-being!”  
“And I appreciate the thought. But I’m fine. Don’t worry. Human bodies inhabiting supernatural beings can sometimes be annoying.”  
Crowley crawls back into bed, tugging at Aziraphale’s wrist.  
“Come on, angel. Lie with me.”  
“We’re not going at it again today. And not tomorrow,” the angel decides, which makes Crowley smile.  
“Yes, alright, fine. Come on now. I know how much you love to cuddle.”

It’s in fact Crowley who likes a cuddle even more than Aziraphale, but he’s never going to admit this. Only partly calmed, Aziraphale climbs back into bed and opens his arms so Crowley can snuggle close. Crowley loves Aziraphale’s soft, warm body and his arms that gently close around him and hold him.  
Because it still bothers him, Aziraphale has to ask: “You would tell me if something was wrong, yes?”  
Crowley groans. “I definitely would, okay? Promise. But nothing’s wrong. I’m absolutely fine.”  
Aziraphale kisses Crowley’s temple. “Good. I’m only worried for you.”  
“I don’t want you to worry. I’m a demon, no need for you to worry about anything.”  
“I hope so.”  
Crowley smiles and kisses Aziraphale’s chest. “My overcautious angel…” And they don’t talk about it anymore. 

A few days later Aziraphale turns around, when he hears Crowley’s footsteps.  
“Are you sure you didn’t catch something? Your stomach is starting to worry me.”  
Aziraphale watches Crowley pad into the kitchen. He has thrown up again, refusing to have breakfast. He is wrapped in one of Aziraphale’s dressing gowns, his hair tied up into a messy bun at the back of his head.  
“I’m a demon. Demons don’t catch anything,” he hisses, then slumps onto his usual chair.  
“Excuse me, but you have been throwing up a lot lately.”  
“And what do you want me to do? Go see a doctor? Well, good luck with that…”  
“No need to snap at me.”  
“I’m not snapping at you!” snaps Crowley and then sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.  
“Sorry…”, he says, muffled through his hands over his mouth.  
“I’ll make you some tea. Do you want to watch a movie? It’s Sunday, I’m not going to open the bookshop today.”  
“Sure. Why not…” 

An hour later Crowley and Aziraphale are snuggled together under a blanket on Aziraphale’s sofa. The angel sips hot cocoa while Crowley struggles with his peppermint tea. He usually doesn’t drink herbal teas, but they seem to calm his stomach. He pays only litte attention to the movie Aziraphale has chosen. It’s a dramatic comedy of sorts, nothing Crowley would have chosen. But Aziraphale has just discovered Netflix, and the possibilities to spend a day in front of the telly are endless. Although this wasn’t usually something Aziraphale liked to do.

The young female main character in the movie seems to have an affair with her boss - Crowley doesn’t get why, because he’s not a very nice man, and the young woman seems to be too smart to fall for such a guy. Crowley starts to drift to sleep, when something catches his attention. He is suddenly wide awake again, sits up straighter, and follows this part of the plot with a rapidly beating heart. Aziraphale doesn’t notice how rigid Crowley has become, who meanwhile stares into nothing. The movie is forgotten, his mind is racing. He thinks of all the odd things that have happened to him - and that are exactly the same the young stupid woman in the movie has experienced before discovering that she was pregnant.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be some brief discussion about having an abortion at the end of this chapter.

Crowley swallows hard, feels bile rise in his throat. Aziraphale barely notices as Crowley leaves the sofa, murmuring something about another cup of tea. The demon walks into the kitchen without paying attention and stops in the middle of it, practically freezing. It can’t be. But it all fits: nausea, increased sexual appetite, sore nipples, fatigue, the postcoital bleeding. It’s just… that this is impossible! He is a demon, has lived as a male for most of his life. He has never paid much attention to menstrual cycles. Of course his female human body has reacted like any other. Crowley tries to remember if he has bled since he has changed his gender to female nearly three months ago. His blood is running cold through his veins. He hasn’t, has he? No. He hasn’t bought any sanitary products since then, they haven’t been interrupted in their shared sexual activities because of a bleeding. Apart from the few drops a few days ago. 

“Crowley, dear?” Aziraphale calls from the living room.  
“Coming, angel…” Crowley replies and slowly goes back, but stops when he reaches the door.  
“Didn’t you want to make another tea?”  
“Erm… changed my mind. I… I think I’m going to take a nap. Would you mind?”  
“Of course not. Do you want me to wake you?”  
Crowley shakes his head. Aziraphale smiles brightly, and with a feeling of utter terror Crowley turns around again and leaves for Aziraphale’s bedroom. He curls into himself in their bed, closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep, avoiding his disturbing thoughts at any cost… 

After Aziraphale has opened his bookshop the next day Crowley excuses himself for a few hours, pretending to have business, and instead hurries to the next Boots. The light in the store is blindingly bright, and Crowley is thankful for his sunglasses. He finds the women’s health section without difficulty, but then stares at the row of pregnancy tests. Different brands, different prices. How is he supposed to choose the right one? His hands are shaking, when he grabs a pregnancy test from the shelf. Will it even work? He’s not human. There is no way this test will work. But he has to try. He has no other way of finding out if… something impossible has happened. He considers buying a second one - another brand, maybe one of the ones that show the result digitally? But he dismisses the thought and hurries toward the till to pay. 

The Bentley takes him back to his flat in no time. Crowley throws the pregnancy test onto the desk in his office and first of all takes care of his plants. But his glance always goes back to his office, and he is not shouting at his plants like he usually does. He’s too distracted. At some point he can’t pretend to occupy himself anymore. He snatches the little package from his desk and rips it open to read the instructions. It’s a very simple task, and with a deep breath he retreats into his bathroom. 

Peeing onto a plastic stick is definitely something he has never thought of in his 6.000 year long existence on earth. And in fact it’s not that easy to let go. Even more so because of the reason he has to do this. He feels ridiculous sitting on his toilet, until he can finally finish his task. He places the test onto the edge of the sink, washes his hands and then sinks to the floor, back against the wall of his bath tub. This will be the longest three minutes of his existence… His heart is beating hard in his chest. He stares up at the ceiling, not really seeing. His hands are restless. They play with his necklace, fiddle with strands of his hair. His thoughts are a chaotic mess, like birds fluttering around. 

Finally he realizes he has been sitting here for nearly five minutes now. He has to take a look. It will be nothing. Surely there will be nothing. A single blue line. Negative. Not pregnant. It has to be. It has to. He can’t be pregnant. Impossible. But he can’t bring himself to take the innocent white piece of plastic and take a look. His hand is shaking, when he finally stands up, reaches for the test and looks at the little control window. His mind goes blank. Two lines. Two clearly visible blue lines. He stares at the test, tries to process. Impossible. The test must be broken. It has to be. Two blue lines. He can’t be pregnant. He just can’t be! A demon and an angel can’t possibly create offspring! But the test in his trembling hand tells him the opposite. He is pregnant. The test stick falls from his hand, and Crowley buries his face in his hands. He is doomed. This is a disaster. 

He stumbles out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, where he falls onto his bed. He instinctively curls into himself like the snake he is, gripping his hair. What now? He is pregnant. Pregnant! Never in the history of hell has he heard about demons creating offspring. Never! Demons aren’t beings of creation but of destruction. He knows angels can. With humans. He inhabits a human form, but his essence is demonic. Is an angel really powerful enough to father a child with a demon? 

All these thoughts make him dizzy. What is he supposed to do? Does he have to tell Aziraphale? And then - what? He can’t father a child. They both can’t. They have successfully tricked heaven and hell. But they can’t have a child! For a moment Crowley thinks about the only logical solution. He even lifts his hand to snap his fingers and change back into his male form. But he doesn’t. Something inside him is reluctant to do it. He must talk to Aziraphale. They are both responsible. They have both been so stupid! No need to take all the blame on himself. The only thing is - how does one tell an angel that he has impregnated his demon lover? 

Crowley spends the rest of the day in his flat pacing, thinking, cursing, thinking about drinking but doesn’t because he is pregnant (pregnant, for someone’s sake!), pacing more, cursing more, thinking more until he is exhausted and desperate for an embrace from his angel. He wants to be held, wants to stop thinking, wants some warmth and comfort. He is really shaken when he drives back to the bookshop and for once pays attention to the traffic regulations. 

The little bells over the bookshop’s door jingle cheerfully, when Crowley opens the door. He takes a look around: no customers. Aziraphale must have successfully gotten rid of them, like he usually does. The angel turns around and smiles, when he sees Crowley.  
“Hello, my dearest. Did you have a nice day?”  
Crowley turns the sign in the shop window to “closed” and locks the door with a snap if his fingers. For a second he asks himself if working magic can hurt the child that is developing inside his womb, but immediately shoves the thought aside. That’s absurd. 

“You look pale. Are you still unwell?” Aziraphale comes closer. When he stands directly in front of him, Crowley pulls him into a hug, closes his eyes and inhales his wonderful scent: tea, caramel, old books and something so very primal, so ancient and so powerful… He sighs and buries his nose in Aziraphale’s collar. Chuckling, the angel hugs him back.  
“Did you miss me that much? You’ve only been away for a few hours.”  
“Felt like eternity,” Crowley grumbles against Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale rubs his back, then gently pushes at his shoulders to look at him.  
“What’s wrong, darling?” He kisses him lovingly. Crowley feels sudden tears in his eyes. He blinks a few times, before he pushes his glasses up onto his forehead. He needs to see Aziraphale’s face as clearly as possible, when he makes his confession.  
“Did something happen? You look… shaken.”  
“Yeah, well… suppose I am.”  
“Do you want some tea?”  
“No… There’s something I have to tell you.”

Aziraphale swallows. This sounds serious, and one thought comes to his mind.  
“Hastur again?” he asks, afraid that their respective sides finally decided to get back to them.  
“Not Hastur. Hell hasn’t been in contact. This is entirely different…”  
“Oh thank god. I really despise this demon. He has already tried to get to you. I won’t allow something like that again.”  
“Zira, will you please listen to me?” Crowley interrupts. The angel falls silent. Then he nods.  
“Go on, then,” he says seriously. Crowley takes a step back. He’s searching for the right words. 

“You know I didn’t feel well lately. The mood swings. The vomiting. The unusual bodily functions. There is a reason for all this.”  
Crowley takes a deep breath.  
“I made a test. I am pregnant,” he then says, his voice trembling. 

Now it’s Aziraphale who takes a step back and stares at him. He needs a moment, until the information sinks in.  
“You are what?” Aziraphale asks with a high pitched voice. This must be a joke. And of course Crowley’s fear and uncertainty transform into impatience and fury.  
“I am pregnant, angel! You impregnated me! I am with child! Knocked up! I have a bun in the oven! How more clearly do you want me to say it?! I am expecting your baby!” he yells. 

Aziraphale goes very, very pale. He stares at Crowley with such a panicked expression that it would be funny if this wasn’t one of the most horrible moments in his life. But is it really a horrible moment? New life shouldn’t be horrible! Never ever! Aziraphale takes a breath and then asks the most stupid thing Crowley could imagine: “But how? How did you get pregnant?”

“Really?!” Crowley yells again not believing what he just heard, “I think you know very, _very_ well how!”  
“Of course I know about the mechanics!” Aziraphale starts to pace up and down, wringing his hands. “But… you are a demon. I am an angel. What… what could possibly come out of that? What is it? Half demon, half angel?”  
“I don’t know…” Crowley groans. He rubs his hands over his face. This is too much for him to cope with at the moment. And Aziraphale’s restless pacing around in his bookshop doesn’t make it any better. Until he realizes, that the angel seems to be searching for something. He is muttering under is breath. Crowley slowly walks over to the sofa he usually occupies and slumps down. He takes his sunglasses off and puts them into his pocket, trying to ignore Aziraphale. Hell, he is tired… He closes his eyes and very easily slips into a state between sleep and being awake. It feels pleasant, because his thoughts wander off and blissful peace takes over for the moment. 

That is until Aziraphale is back and with a thud places a stack of books onto the small table next to the sofa. Crowley’s eyes fly open again, and he looks at the angel.  
“You don’t want me to read all of this, do you?” snaps Crowley.  
“Of course not. But maybe we find something about this… situation.”  
“Oh you mean like the nephilim?” Crowley straightens a little and continues louder than he intended: “I don’t have to remind you: they were _angelic_ offspring with humans. Nobody ever said anything about demons and humans procreating! No wonder, She forbid your lot intimacy with humans!”  
“That’s something completely different, and the nephilim are long gone!” protests Aziraphale.  
“And I am very thankful for that fact! I met some in the old days. Not very nice.”  
“Well, no.” Aziraphale starts to leaf through the first of the books, still standing. He doesn’t look at Crowley, when he angrily mumbles: “This wouldn’t have happened at all if you hadn’t given yourself a uterus.”

Crowley feels sudden anger rushing through him. “So it’s all my fault? You can’t blame all of this on me! We were very much both involved, and you never complained about me having a uterus! Angelic sperm seems to be a very powerful essence after all when it is even able to impregnate a demon!” He glares at Aziraphale whose hands clasp the book in an iron grip and threaten to tear it into pieces.  
“I never intended to impregnate you!”  
“Yeah, I know, but you did!” 

They stare at each other, neither of them willing to surrender to the other’s piercing gaze. Crowley is not sure if he has ever seen Aziraphale with such a grim expression on his face. Finally Crowley surrenders and lowers his gaze. He will never admit it, but Aziraphale’s stare has really intimidated him. His shoulders sag, and he admits quietly: “I don’t know what to do, angel…”

Aziraphale lowers the book and puts it back on the stack of the others he has brought. He sinks down onto the sofa, close to Crowley. His knees are suddenly weak, and he knows he has to think about all this. Without looking at Crowley he asks: “We can’t ask anybody about this, can we?”  
Crowley laughs a bitter laugh. “No, I don’t think so. Who would you want to ask? A priest? Or Gabriel? Oh, I could call Dagon and ask him: _Hey, Dagon, dude, do you know anything about offspring created through a sexual act between a demon and an angel? And before you ask: yes I let an angel fuck me and he knocked me up!_”  
“Don’t say things like that! That sounds filthy!”  
“Well we _are_ filthy, aren’t we, angel? None of our former sides would like what we are doing here. We have been acting against every rule.”  
“We love each other,” Aziraphale reminds Crowley with so much tenderness in his voice, that Crowley turns to him and takes a look. 

Aziraphale is still pale, visibly upset and worried. “You… you mentioned the nephilim. Do you think this could be… similar?”  
Crowley swallows. The nephilim had been a curse. Just like he had said a few moments earlier: not very nice. According to the bible and other religious texts the nephilim were giants, offspring of godlike creatures with human women. Both Crowley and Aziraphale know, that it had been angels who hadn’t been able to resist temptation and had slept with women. 

The children had been… difficult. All of them had been in fact tall, beautiful, but vicious, feral and cruel without any empathy or sympathy for anything. They had been long-living and dangerous, and it had taken a whole corps of angels and a few centuries to find them all and eliminate them. Nobody had found out which angels had been responsible. And it didn’t matter anymore in the end. God then had forbidden any kind of sexual interaction with humans, and no more such incidents had happened. And now an angel had fathered a child with a demon… 

“I honestly don’t know, Zira. I hope it’s not. But we can’t know. This is… it’s dangerous. It could get us both discorporated for real this time.”  
“But it’s a living thing. We can’t just kill it. Maybe it’s alright. It could have all our best parts.”  
“And what would that be, hm? Surely not my snake eyes or your softness.”  
“Crowley, you were an angel once. There is still so much inside you that’s good. You love children. And you created the stars. You have imagination, and you had enough love for humanity to try and save it. I can’t believe that this child will be evil.”  
Crowley groans. All these speculations tire him. “But I’m still a demon. What, if it _has_ my eyes?”

“Maybe we can… make some tests. You could go see a doctor. They do all sorts of exams these days. X-ray, CT, MRI, ultrasound… there must be a possibility to find out more about this embryo,” Aziraphale suggests hopefully. Crowley shakes his head.  
“No chance. I already had my fun with some of these wonders of modern medicine. You won’t see anything other than a blurry mass. I’m fairly sure I’ve told you about it once.”

Aziraphale sighs, because now he remembers. “You in fact did. Damn… So we don’t have any chance to get a little more information about it.”  
“Nope.” Then Crowley grins.  
“What?”  
“You just swore. You said damn.”  
“Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.”  
“And swear words?”

They look at each other, and some of the tension melts away, when Aziraphale can’t suppress a grin either, and they laugh a little together for a moment. Which feels incredibly good. But it doesn’t last long before another thing comes to Aziraphale’s mind.  
“But… apart from the question what this baby is… Have you ever seen yourself as a parent?” asks the angel the question that he hates to ask but has to nonetheless.  
“Do you mean if I ever had the wish to have a child?” Crowley groans. He sinks against the backrest of the sofa. He rubs his hand over his forehead.  
“I… I have always liked children. You know that. I… I have taken care of children before. Including Warlock. But demons aren’t supposed to _have_ children!”  
“Neither are angels. To be perfectly honest, I have never missed anything. I have never thought about having children. Why would I?”  
“Well, the facts are already right there inside my womb. If you’re not prepared to be a parent, then we have to do something.”  
“I didn’t say that. And don’t the humans have this saying: you grow with your tasks. It’s just that… I don’t know if I am capable of really raising a child.”

“So what do you suggest then? Get rid of the problem? I could, you know that. All it takes is just the snap of my fingers.” Crowley lifts his hand, thumb and middle finger touching, but his hand is trembling.  
Aziraphale licks his lips. His mind is racing. Does he want that? Does he want Crowley to end the little life that’s growing inside of him? The life they created together? The life neither of them wanted but is there, if they like it or not?  
“Well? What do you say?” Crowley asks. Aziraphale is frozen, still thinking. Do they have the right to end this life? But if they decide to do this, then they will have to do this together. No decision they ever took comes anywhere close to this one. And they have already made some difficult decisions. But Aziraphale is torn. He is an angel. He doesn’t want to kill anything. 

“What is your decision, angel? What do you want me to do?”  
“You can’t leave the decision up to me, Crowley! That’s not fair! We’re both responsible here! It’s a decision we have to take together! What do you want to do? Do you want to end this now? It’s your body. In the end it’s your decision.”  
Crowley swallows. Aziraphale has a point. He is the one with the baby inside his womb. And he has already considered to change into a man again and end all this. But he hasn’t done it. He had wanted to talk to the love of his life, avoiding to decide all on his own. His hand sinks down again. Aziraphale takes a relieved breath. 

“I don’t know,” Crowley admits. They both fall silent, lost in their own thoughts. Crowley would very much want to just sink into Aziraphale’s arms, close his eyes and sleep for a while. Forget about this child inside him. Aziraphale seems to notice how Crowley is feeling right now. He touches his arm. Crowley hesitates for only one second, then he let’s himself be pulled into Aziraphale’s embrace. 

“I’m so sorry… Please believe me. I feel so guilty. We should have thought about birth control. But I never considered it could be possible for us to have a child”, he says.  
“Me neither. Our only excuse is that we never had sex before. We’re not that experienced with themes like birth control.”  
“Doesn’t make it any better.” Aziraphale has no idea how hard this must be for Crowley. He decides to do everything in his might to support and help Crowley. No matter what they decide in the end. 

“Is there anything I can do for you?”  
“Don’t think so. I’m glad you’re still with me. Everybody else would have left me to deal with it on my own.”  
“I won’t. I’ve waited too long to be with you to leave you now. Besides - just like you said: I’m responsible, too.”  
They stay like this for a while until Aziraphale fears that Crowley could have fallen asleep in his arms. But then the demon retreats from his embrace.  
“You look so tired, my dear. Do you want to go sleep? I could join you in bed, if you’d like.”  
Crowley shakes his head. “No. I think I need to go home for a few days. I have to… have to think about this. Get my head clear before I can decide about anything.” He gently touches Aziraphale’s cheek. “But I promise I won’t do anything without coming back to you.”  
Azirapahle nods. He knows he can’t bring Crowley to do anything he doesn’t want.  
“Take care. Please eat and drink something.”  
“I will.” Crowley kisses Aziraphale before he gets up. “I’ll be in touch, angel.”  
And with that he leaves the bookshop.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again some more talk about an abortion, but they have already made a decision.

Aziraphale hears and sees nothing from Crowley for three days. Just before he wants to close the shop on the third evening, the demon appears on his doorstep. He looks miserable, when he takes off his glasses. Aziraphale silently locks the shop up for the night before they both go upstairs into his flat.  
“Have you eaten?” asks the angel, cupping Crowley’s cheek with his hand. Crowley nods.  
“Good. How do you feel?”  
“Scared…” whispers Crowley. He sinks to his knees, before Azirapahle can do anything. Crowley throws his arms around Aziraphale’s middle and presses his face to his soft belly.  
“Crowley!” Aziraphale hunches over him, combs his fingers through his hair.  
“Darling, are you alright? Talk to me, please!” He slowly tries to kneel down, and Crowley lets him.  
“Please, my dearest. Talk to me”, he begs.  
“Angel…”  
“Yes, my dear?”  
Crowley sighs. He feels his heart racing. But he has to say it now if he doesn’t want to explode. 

“Angel, I… I can’t do it. I can’t get rid of it…” He finally says.  
Aziraphale blinks a few times. He can’t believe what he just heard.  
“Are you sure?”  
“I am. I can’t kill it. I’m sorry…”  
Aziraphale cups his face in both hands. “No. No! Don’t you dare apologize. Don’t you dare! Oh god, my darling, my love… You’re so brave… I promise to be there for you. What ever happens. I swear.”  
“I know. Thank you, angel…” Crowley whispers. He feels Aziraphale’s thumbs gently brush over his cheeks. It’s soothing. Hell, he feels so exhausted… 

“Come on. Let’s get up. And then you can tell me more.”  
Crowley doesn’t resist, when Aziraphale pulls him to his feet and guides him to the sofa in his living room. They lie down and Aziraphale pulls Crowley into an embrace. He doesn’t have to wait long until Crowley begins to talk.  
“I have thought so much about it. About us. About the child. I still don’t know what it is. But I _do_ know that it is a part of me and you. And if there is any chance it _could_ be good… what right do I have to kill it?”

Crowley has really worked himself up over it. It’s still difficult to express with words what he has been thinking about. But he is pretty sure his angel get’s what he wants to say. He shivers when he thinks about the alternative: his first impulse to change back into a man and solve the problem this way. He wasn’t lying when he has told Aziraphale that he is scared. He really is. And tries to explain. 

“I am scared that it’s the wrong decision to keep the child. And I am scared what will happen to us. To you and me. I am scared what will happen when the child is born. If we will be able to raise it properly when everything’s fine. I am scared what will happen when it’s not. And I am scared that… that you might leave me. And then I would be alone again… And I could never live without you.”  
“I’m not going to leave you! Not now, not in the future. I told you just a few minutes ago. I promise to always be there for you.”

“But what if heaven or hell get back to us? What when they see what has happened?”  
Aziraphale sighs. It’s not that he hasn’t thought about their situation for hours. He totally understands everything Crowley has told him so far. It’s just that all these thoughts are pointless at the moment. If their former sides get back to them, there is nothing they can do about this. They can only try to make the best of the situation. 

“Then they will see it. There is nothing we could do about that. I can understand why you are afraid of our former sides. But do you really want us to hide for the rest of times? I know, this shouldn’t have happened. But it has. We have to come to terms with it.”  
“And our child? You have been to hell for my trial. You have seen what demons do to other demons. Do you think they would spare a child of mine?”  
“Is heaven any better?”

Aziraphale has a point. No, heaven doesn’t seem to be better. Crowley had been the one to witness Gabriel’s hatred towards Aziraphale.  
“That’s not exactly soothing.”  
“I know. But that’s how things are. We can only try to live with it. And with the consequences.”  
“But the baby shouldn’t be the one to pay the price for what we did wrong.”  
“Did we do wrong? We love each other.” Aziraphale shifts until he can properly look at Crowley.  
“If god hadn’t intended us to fall in love, it wouldn’t have happened. She is infallible.”  
“Tell that to our respective sides…” Crowley sighs. He wishes he had Aziraphale's faith… 

“I don’t have to. All that matters to me is you. You and our baby. And if God doesn’t interfere, than I will stand up against your side and my side. No matter what.”  
“You make this all sound so easy, angel.”  
Aziraphale lifts his hand to play with Crowley’s hair. “I want to make it easier for you. We have to do this together. I want to.”  
Crowley can’t say anything. He is so thankful. He can never repay Aziraphale for all this love and his devotion toward him. 

They stay like this for a while, and Crowley nearly dozes off in the safety of Aziraphale’s arms. Aziraphale can feel the demon relaxing and presses a loving kiss to his temple.  
“Lets get you to bed. You must be tired und looked exhausted. Do you want to try to sleep?” Aziraphale suggests.  
Crowley groans.  
“I don’t know if I can.”  
“Just try. I will stay with you. You know how I like to watch over your sleep.”  
Crowley thinks about this offer for a moment, then nods.  
“Okay then. Let me grab a book or two. Go on, darling. I’ll be there in a minute.”

It takes Aziraphale only a few moments to choose something to read. When he joins Crowley in his bedroom, the demon is undressing. Aziraphale has grown quite fond of Crowley’s new style. He still likes to wear skin tight jeans, just in different combinations now that he is a woman. But today like many days before he is wearing a tight (and short) black jeans skirt. He has already taken off the knee high boots he had been wearing as well as the jacket and blouse and is right now shimmying out of the skirt. Aziraphale smiles and admires the wonderful view Crowley is presenting in a set of black lace panties and bra together with black hold-up stockings. A black silk pyjama is already lying next to him on the bed, and Crowley startles when he hears Aziraphale’s footsteps. Before finding out about the pregnancy Crowley had loved to put on a little show for Aziraphale when undressing, mostly leading to more heated acitivities in the bedroom. Tonight, though, he turns his back to Aziraphale and hurries to change into his pyjama before he crawls beneath the covers. His red hair is a wonderful contrast to Aziraphale’s light bedclothes. 

The angel doesn’t comment. He changes into a pyjama, too. No need not to get comfortable when one spends the night in bed, even when one is not sleeping. He arranges some pillows behind his back until he is happy with it and then opens his arms for Crowley. Crowley doesn’t hesitate. He snuggles into Aziraphale’s chest.  
“Comfortable, my dear?” asks Aziraphale. Crowley just groans and then yawns, his jaws nearly dislocating. Aziraphale smiles. He presses a kiss onto Crowley’s forehead.  
“Sleep well, darling.”  
He reaches for the first book and starts reading, while Crowley falls asleep in his arms. 

When Crowley wakes the next morning he feels sick again and it’s one of the worst days so far. Aziraphale kneels next to him and holds his hair out of his face while Crowley is violently retching and coughing, even though he tries to send the angel out of the bathroom. He feels so exhausted after so much vomiting that he let’s Aziraphale carry him back to bed and sleeps a few hours more. Aziraphale opens the book shop for some time and makes Crowley some toast and eggs later on. It’s late afternoon until Crowley crawls into Aziraphale’s lap on the sofa and groans: “Angel… we shouldn’t stay in London for the duration of the pregnancy. If someone from downstairs or from your lot shows up… We can’t risk that.”  
“But where do you suggest we should go?”

Crowley hesitates. But if he can and must trust anyone, it surely is Aziraphale.  
“I… I own a cottage. In Sussex downs near Arundel. Nobody knows about it. We could stay there.”  
“A cottage?” Aziraphale asks more than a little surprised. “You in the countryside? I have always tanken you for a person who can’t live outside a metropole.”  
“Well, then maybe you don’t know me very well!” Crowley snaps and regrets it the same second. “Sorry… It’s only… I really am on edge at the moment.”  
“It’s understandable. And I am sorry. I was just so surprised.”  
“What’s surprising about a cottage? Plenty of greenery surrounding it. I have hired a gardener and a housekeeper to look after everything. It should only take us a few days to get everything ready.”  
Aziraphale doesn’t have to think long about it.  
“I think this would be a very good idea. But isn’t it too lonely? What if something goes wrong? I would never forgive myself if something happened to you or our child.”  
“It’s not like we could go to a hospital anyway. People have given birth without doctors and hospitals for millennia. I can do the same. Maybe better.”  
“Do you think you could… miracle the child… once it’s time, I mean… just out of your body?”

Crowley smiles and then starts to laugh. “Oh angel, I don’t think it will work that way! No, I suppose I have to give birth like any other mother on this planet. The traditional way.”  
“Oh god, I am already dying with fear…” groans Aziraphale.  
“Don’t. I will be fine. Promise. So - what do you think about Sussex downs? We can drive down there so you can see it. And then we decide.”  
Aziraphale’s face brightens. “We could make a picnic!”  
Crowley snorts. “In March. Fine. Whatever makes you happy. Tomorrow then. Hope I don’t feel as sick as today. I’ll call my my minions to prepare at least a little.”

Luckily Crowley does feel better the next morning. He tells Aziraphale everything about his cottage during the ride to Sussex downs. It’s only small, has two bedrooms, a bath and kitchen and a winter garden. A big back garden is part of the estate. The cottage has been renovated a while before and should be ready to move in in just a few days time. When Crowley parks the Bentley in front of the small garden gate, Azirapahle is immediately captivated. The cottage is small, painted white with dark window frames and a red wooden door. It’s surrounded part by hedges and part by a wooden fence. It looks absolutely charming. 

Crowley shows Aziraphale around. The rooms are small, but cozy. The furniture is well chosen and doesn’t take up too much of the limited space. The bathroom has a tub and a shower, the kitchen is fully equipped and looks out to the beautiful back garden. It’s a typical English garden, and Aziraphale immediately likes the deck chairs and the iron table on the small terrace. The winter garden is connected to the house through a door to the living room. It’s not big, but will provide shelter for more sensitive plants. 

“What do you think? It should be okay for the next months, shouldn’t it?”, asks Crowley in the end. They stand in the kitchen. Crowley is still playing with the keys, while Aziraphale admires the view into the garden.  
“It’s beautiful. I would love to stay here with you. For as long as you like”, smiles Aziraphale.  
“Just until it’s born. I don’t want to live here permanently. It’s just a good thing to have a place to… to relax.”  
“Go on holiday,” suggests the angel with a smile.  
“Oh no, not holiday. I don’t do holidays.”  
Aziraphale smiles to himself. They already are on a holiday - a permanent one, so it seems, since heaven and hell are no longer dictating what they have to do.  
“Fine, no holiday. So - when do you want to move?”  
Crowley makes some of his typical sounds when he doesn’t really know what to say until he finally finds his words again. “What about - next weekend?”  
“Next weekend it is, then,” nods the angel and already starts to plan what he will need to pack. 

The day they really move in is a wonderful sunny day mid March. The only clouds are the ones clouding Crowley’s mood. He is miserable today. The morning sickness was awful the last days, and today is no exception. Aziraphale has offered to drive the Bentley. He has a driving license but never felt the need to drive a car in central London. Crowley doesn’t even consider this offer worthy of an answer. Of course he gets behind the wheel and drives himself. They have to stop twice for Crowley to throw up. He is cursing and swearing a lot, but he is extremely grateful and terribly exhausted when they finally arrive at the cottage. He leaves it up to Aziraphale to bring their luggage inside that has miraculously all fit in the Bentley - including some of Crowley’s most precious house plants. Instead Crowley collapses on the sofa and falls asleep within the minute. 

When he awakes two hours later, Aziraphale has already unpacked all their bags and sits with a cup of tea in one of the armchairs, reading one of the books he has brought. It takes them a few days to get used to the new situation. Crowley is the one to light the fireplace in the living room in the evenings (as a demon he knows how to work with fire), and it’s all much too romantic for his liking. He knows he should be grateful for the opportunity to be safe here in Sussex downs with Aziraphale. But he still struggles with everything. What’s on top is the progress of the pregnancy. 

Crowley knows his belly will grow. He has no clue how fast. But when he has difficulties closing his jeans for the first time just a few days after they have moved, it suddenly becomes real. There is a baby growing inside him. A sudden bout of nausea hits him full force, and he leaves his jeans open and hurries to the bathroom to throw up. 

Aziraphale hears him from downstairs. He’s in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Crowley rarely eats anymore in the morning. If he is lucky he can have a slice of toast and a cup of tea, but nothing more. It gets better during the day. But the mornings are still a nightmare. Aziraphale has read that this seems to be a good sign in a human pregnancy. Meaning that the baby is developing well. But they can’t know about their own offspring. Maybe Crowley’s body is reacting badly to the angelic half of the baby. They can’t know that, and Aziraphale is constantly worried for his lover. 

Crowley comes into the kitchen 15 minutes later - looking pale and more skinny than weeks before, changed back into a pair of pyjamas and wrapped in Aziraphale’s warm flannel dressing gown. He slumps on one of the kitchen chairs and groans.  
“That bad?”, asks Aziraphale. He comes over, and Crowley flings his arms around him. He buries his face in Azriphale’s warm soft belly.  
“I don’t want that anymore…” His voice is muffled, but Aziraphale understands him nonetheless and cards his fingers through Crowley’s hair.  
“I’m so sorry. I wish I could help…”  
“My clothes don’t fit anymore.”  
Aziraphale looks down at him but can still only see a chaos of red hair.  
“I’m sure we can do something about that.”  
“I will look like a whale.”  
Now Aziraphale can’t help but chuckle. If that’s Crowley’s only concern… 

The demon looks up, when he feels Aziraphale chuckle.  
“That’s not funny at all!” he blurts out.  
“No. But I’m relieved that this is your most urgent problem. How about your nausea? Think you can have a cuppa?”  
“Hrm…” Crowley makes. He snuggles back into Aziraphale’s belly. Aziraphale let’s him take his time. Crowley is unusually clingy at the moment. But if he needs the comfort, Aziraphale will give it happily. 

Ten minutes later they both sit at the table. Aziraphale, knowing fully well, how sensitive Crowley is to smells in his current situation, has just made tea and toast for breakfast. Crowley nibbles on a slice of toast with butter and raspberry jam. Under the table his foot is nudged against Aziraphale’s.  
“Maybe you can spend some time in the garden today. The sky is clear,” Aziraphale suggests. He is glad it’s spring, so Crowley has something to occupy himself with.  
“Maybe…” Crowley mumbles. He doesn’t feel like doing anything today. He could be gladly watching the telly the whole day. As much as it would annoy Aziraphale, he could go for another binge watch of Golden Girls.  
“Or we could take a walk when you’re feeling a little better.”  
“Hm…”

Aziraphale sighs. “Crowley, dearest, you can’t just spend the whole pregnancy inside the cottage.”  
“Why not?”  
“It’s not healthy. And it’s my job to look after you and care for you. We should take a walk every day. I can learn to cook. I already bought two cook books with me. It will be fun.” Aziraphale smiles one his bright smiles, and Crowley can’t help but shake his head and smile, too.  
“You’ve always been a terrible cook. Let’s stick to the prepared meals for now, and when this blasted morning sickness is finally gone, I’ll take up cooking again. You know I’m far better at it.”  
“Then teach me.”  
“Don’t tempt me.”

They both have to laugh. It feels good to laugh. They both still find it hard to relax. This is a situation they are both very unfamiliar with. Aziraphale has the feeling that the next months will be difficult to say the least. He just hopes that Crowley starts to feel better, soon. They can’t tell how far along he is. But since his morning sickness is still there, he hasn’t finished the first trimester. At least six months to go, then. 

“What’s on your mind, angel?” Crowley asks and takes another sip of his morning tea.  
“I was just thinking… You’re still suffering from morning sickness. I read it up. If I’m right, you are about ten or eleven weeks gone. Morning sickness usually lasts for the first trimester, so I hope it should subside during the next two or three weeks.”  
“What does that mean for…” Crowley clears his throat. “For the estimated due date?”  
“I think around mid October is very plausible. If this pregnancy progresses like a human’s does.”  
“What does your estimations say about me not fitting into my jeans anymore?”  
“Totally different in every pregnancy.”  
Crowley snorts. “Well… let’s see if this baby develops according to your research.”

Within the next two weeks Crowley’s morning sickness wears off. When he is having his first morning coffee for weeks he could weep with joy. His mood is so good, he suggests to go shopping. There is a garden center he would like to see and buy some supplies for the cottage garden - he has enough time to tend to the garden throughout the summer. Aziraphale is glad to watch Crowley strolling through the garden center, choosing seeds and seedlings, gardening gloves, some gardening tools and decides to buy a fire basket for the terrace for romantic evenings. Not that he would admit the part about the romantic evenings. But Aziraphale can guess it and finds it indeed terribly romantic. 

The weather is good during the following weeks, and so Crowley does in fact spend most of his day time in the garden. He has decided to grow some herbs for cooking in the sunniest corner of the garden. Aziraphale likes watching him work. Crowley doesn’t shout at his plants, but talks sternly to them, Aziraphale can tell. He smiles every time he notices it. But it seems to work. The plants seem to grow to Crowley’s satisfaction. Aziraphale reads a lot. He even uses the ebook reader Crowley has given him as a present, already with hundreds of books on it. Aziraphale has been very suspicious of this invention. But he must admit how convenient it is to be able to read constantly without carrying dozens of books with you. 

But this is just a surface they both don’t want to stir too much. Crowley is still very unsure about himself and his condition. And his body. He sleeps every night, and Aziraphale joins him in bed with a book or his new ebook reader. Sometimes Crowley sleeps with his head in Aziraphale’s lap, sometimes he just curls in on himself and listens to the whispering turning of the pages of Aziraphale’s book until he falls asleep. Aziraphale doesn’t pressure him into anything. But he is concerned. When ever he looks at Crowley, Crowley shies away from his gaze now, when this gaze wanders down to his belly. He doesn’t let Aziraphale see. And Aziraphale doesn’t understand why. He wants to be a part of this. He has a role in this. If he is to be a parent in some months time, he should be involved. He should participate. He should be allowed to see, to feel. But Crowley doesn’t let him in.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s a morning about two weeks later. It's still early, Aziraphale has already had his first tea. When he had left the bedroom, Crowley was still asleep. At some point he hears him get up and rummage around, supposedly preparing for a long morning shower. He walks upstairs to ask him if they should make pancakes for breakfast. Crowley had liked them last week, but his moods and tastes can change every minute. Crowley is already in the bathroom, when Aziraphale stops dead in his tracks. The door to the hallway is partly open, and he can see Crowley standing at the sink in only his pyjama bottoms.

This is the first time Aziraphale sees the little swell of a baby bump without clothing. Crowley has taken to wearing pyjamas when he goes to bed, and when he comes out of the bathroom in the morning he is completely dressed. His shirts fall longer and a little more loosely over the hem of his trousers or skirts. Aziraphale has taken a look at Crowley’s clothes in the closet and has discovered that the demon must have made them a little wider to make room for his growing belly. He seems to be very self-conscious at the moment, unsure about his appearance. The angel is concerned - even more so, because they haven’t touched each other properly since they had found out about the pregnancy. If Crowley isn’t up for making love, then Aziraphale is fine with it. But Crowley isn’t even up for a cuddle at the moment. And Aziraphale knows how much Crowley has always enjoyed their cuddles, even if he never admits it. 

Aziraphale can’t take his eyes of Crowley’s slightly rounded middle, but feels like an intruder all the same. Crowley hasn’t yet realized that he’s being watched. Aziraphale is not sure if he should make his presence known to him, but desperately wants to go inside the bathroom, wants to take Crowley in his arms, hold him, feel him and touch him, touch his belly. He bites his lip. If Crowley doesn’t want him near, he shouldn’t force himself onto him. But he misses their hugs and cuddles and touches so much! 

So Aziraphale steels himself and knocks on the door.  
“Crowley, my dearest - may I come in?”  
Crowley turns his head, he looks surprised and shocked and immediately reaches for his pyjama top and holds it in front of himself to cover his breasts and his belly. It gives Aziraphale a sting of hurt, that Crowley doesn’t want him to see. But he waits patiently in front of the door.  
“Y-yes, what’s the matter?”  
Aziraphale slowly pushes the door open. “I am sorry, I didn’t want to spy on you. But wanted to ask you something and I caught a glimpse of you through the crack in the door, and…” He comes closer. Crowley blushes. He lowers his gaze.  
“Why don’t you want me to see you? You avoid my touch, and I so miss holding you. Is it something I have said or done to make you feel uncomfortable?” the angel asks. He stays near the door, doesn’t want to pressure Crowley. 

Crowley sighs. “No, angel, you did nothing wrong. I… I don’t know what’s gotten into me. But this… this bump doesn’t seem to belong to me. It should belong to someone else. I am still trying to get my head around the fact that there is a baby growing inside my body, and…” He helplessly shrugs his shoulders. “It’s complicated…”  
Aziraphale takes a step closer. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? I thought now that the morning sickness is gone, you would be able to… to enjoy the miracle that has happened?”

“Enjoy?” Finally Crowley looks at him now. Aziraphale looks back, and he sees it, because Crowley is not wearing his sunglasses. He still looks paler than usual, and he looks concerned - and frightened.  
“I wish I could enjoy this. But everything I can think about is, if this baby is alright. What it is. What it is doing to my body. Or what my body might do to it. I can’t stop thinking, angel, and that makes me so tired and confused.” He falls silent for a moment. When he continues, the pained expression on his face makes Aziraphale’s heart ache. 

“Every morning I tell myself that everything will be alright. Every morning I am so grateful that you’re here. That you try to cheer me up, that you try to make me feel good and that you try to care for me. But I can’t bring myself to let you in on this.” He looks down at his middle, then sighs and lets the top drop to the floor. Aziraphale’s gaze wanders over Crowley’s breasts. They have always been on the smaller side, perfect for his lean, athletic body. But they seem to be a little rounder already, the nipples more prominent and darker. Then he looks down to Crowley’s gravid belly. It’s still just a small bump. But Crowley looks definitely pregnant. And so utterly beautiful… Tears start to appear in Aziraphale’s eyes. How is it possible that Crowley is so unsure about himself? He had never been insecure about his appearance. If only Aziraphale could show him, how gorgeous he is right now!

Crowley swallows visibly.  
“I know it’s weird…” he whispers.  
“Weird?” Aziraphale can’t hold the tears back any more. “Crowley, my love, have you any idea how amazing you are and how beautiful you are to me? Always. Male, female, pregnant or not - I love you, no matter how you present. Have I ever given you the feeling I didn’t like something about you?”  
“Why are you crying?”  
“Because I fear I haven’t shown you how much you mean to me. I want you to be happy, and I didn’t make you happy.”  
“But you do! Fuck…” Crowley covers his eyes with one hand and turns away. He feels horrible for making his angel feel this way. He can’t do anything right, can he? So how is he supposed to be a good father for his child? Because that’s another of his concerns. But he’s not able to admit this right now. 

Aziraphale can tell there is more that’s bothering Crowley, but that he can’t address right now. So he decides to at least show him his affection and love. 

“Just let me show you how much you mean to me. You deserve to be held and cherished and you deserve to be loved, Crowley. You are the most precious to me.”  
Crowley in his current state still finds it hard to believe him. But he doesn’t resist when Aziraphale comes closer and pulls him into his arms. Aziraphale gasps, when he feels the swell of Crowley’s baby bump against his own soft middle. For the first time in weeks Crowley allows Aziraphale to pull him this close. He flings his arms around him and buries his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale’s hands stroke his back and card through the soft strands of his hair. Aziraphale loves Crowley’s hair when it’s long. 

The gentleness and attention let Crowley finally relax. He feels Aziraphale’s warm soft lips on his temple, his cheek, and he automatically turns toward him. Their lips find each other. Crowley feels the endless love Aziraphale has for him in every move of his lips and his tongue. Aziraphale still plays with Crowley’s hair, but then his hands also glide over the warm skin of his back and lower to his bottom. Crowley gasps, when he feels the angel’s hard cock press against his hip. A sudden surge of lust makes him groan. Aziraphale smiles into their kiss. 

“Do you need anything, my love? Is there anything I can do for you?”  
“You could stop talking and take me to bed.”  
“Oh my love…”  
Crowley let’s out a squeal, when Aziraphale scoops him up into his arms and carries him bridal style back into the bedroom. “Put me down! This is humiliating!”  
“Oh, I am going to put you down. Down onto our bed. And then I will take such good care of you…” And he does.

Crowley is helpless in the face of all the love and attention Aziraphale is showering him with. Because it feels so good! They are both naked already. Aziraphale’s lips and his hands are incredibly soft and warm. He fears he could melt into the mattress and smiles at this ridiculous thought. He lifts his head from the pillow and looks down at his lover. Aziraphale’s gentle hands caress his breasts, while his lips and tongue are on one of his nipples. He knows how sensitive Crowley must be there at the moment. All he does is gentle and loving. Aziraphale glides lower down, planting small kisses along Crowley’s ribs and flanks, followed by his warm hands. When he reaches Crowley’s navel and lower abdomen, Crowley’s heart is already racing. Aziraphale looks up for a moment, their eyes meet. 

“My love, you have no idea how wonderful you feel and look…” Aziraphale whispers, “You are creating a new life.” He lays one of his palms onto the small baby bump, fingers spread, looks down at his hand, smiling.  
“This is our child in here. Safe. Warm. Protected. Loved. It’s the greatest miracle there is. I am so proud of you, my love. You’re amazing…” He bends down, presses gentle kisses all over the soft skin of Crowley’s belly. Crowley reaches down, touches Aziraphale’s cheek. The angel looks up again and smiles. One of his hands wanders down over Crowley’s hip to his thigh, gently pushes at the soft inside. With a sigh Crowley opens his legs and gives Aziraphale more space to glide further down. 

“Look at you… amazing…” Aziraphale’s lips return to Crowley’s belly and trace down over Crowley’s mons. As always there is only a small stripe of dark reddish hair, and Aziraphale follows the trail to the full outer lips. He places small kisses on both of them and sighs happily that Crowley finally allows him to do this again. They haven’t slept with each other for weeks now, and Aziraphale is suddenly aware how much he has missed this. His cock is hard and heavy, already leaking precome. 

Aziraphale’s fingertips gently trace the seams of Crowley’s inner lips. He already feels the wetness. The warm flesh is velvety smooth and so inviting! He hears Crowley gasp and is determined to make this as good as possible. He blows his breath over Crowley’s open vulva and makes him shiver. His clit is starting to swell, peeking out from it’s hood, and Aziraphale puts his lips on it and hums. Crowley gasps, the sensation is lovely. He is suddenly aware how much he, too, has missed this and urges his angel on with a wriggle of his hips. 

“Tease…” he growls. Aziraphale smiles against the sensitive warm flesh. He touches his tongue to Crowley’s clit, then down over his inner labia and back up, alternating between soft kisses and little flicks of his tongue.  
“Patience, dear…” he whispers.  
“Sod patience. It’s been weeks…”  
“I know. But I don’t want to rush this. I want you to enjoy yourself.”  
Crowley is so grateful that there is no reproach from Aziraphale because Crowley has avoided this intimacy for so long now. But he is in fact horny now, wants as much as he can get. He tries to press himself against Aziraphale’s fingers and mouth, wants them to press further into his sensitive cunt. 

But Aziraphale is having nothing of it. “No, darling. Let me. Let me devour you. Let me make you so wet and wanting that you don’t remember your own name.”  
“Isn’t it enough if I remember yours to shout when you finally make me come?”  
Aziraphale’s cock twitches. He loves it when Crowley talks like this.  
“It will be sufficient…”, he smiles, before he buries his face in Crowley’s cunt. 

His lips and tongue are a revelation. Crowley is writhing and moaning and grabbing the sheets. His legs are trembling, he is chanting Aziraphale’s name like a prayer. One of his hands buries into Aziraphale’s blond curls, and he presses himself up against Aziraphale’s mouth, which is already dripping with his juices and saliva. He comes when Aziraphale slides two fingers into his cunt. He still rides the last waves of his orgasm, but demands:  
“Need you! Need you inside, please, angel, please!”  
“I don’t want to hurt you.”  
“You won’t. Just put it in, angel. Fuck me.”

The blatant words do things to Aziraphale - like always. And he always loves to fuck Crowley - no matter if he has a cunt or not. And it’s mutual. Crowley is a bottom through and through. If he has the choice, he always chooses to be taken in any way possible. No wonder he asks Aziraphale to do exactly that. He can do a good pounding, too, of course. Has done so when ever Aziraphale has asked him to top him. Right now though it’s clear what they both need and want.  
“If you’re sure…”  
“I am. Just move, angel!”  
“Bossy…” Aziraphale smiles. He will do what Crowley needs. He positions himself between Crowley’s spread thighs, plants kisses along one of his knee up his thigh, his hip, his belly, his chest, his pert little breasts, finally up to his mouth, all the while shuffling closer. Crowley feels Aziraphale’s warm, hard cock bumping against his vulva. 

“Are you really sure this is what you want? I don’t want to do anything to harm the little one or you,” Aziraphale whispers against Crowley’s mouth.  
“Angel, I fucking swear, if you don’t put your cock in me this instant, I’m going to discorporate!” is Crowley’s answer, and he tries to wriggle down and impale himself on Aziraphale’s cock. Crowley may be a bottom, but he can be a very bossy one. So Aziraphale decides to not ignore both their needs anymore and slides home with just one slow thrust. Crowley’s back arches, he throws his head back and moans. 

“Finally! Oh yes, angel… Make me feel good…”  
“I intend to…”  
Aziraphale moves slowly - long, deep thrusts that make him sigh with every movement of his hips. Crowley’s fingers are clawing at Aziraphale’s shoulders. Aziraphale knows, the demon likes it a little faster, a little harder. But Aziraphale is determined to wring a different orgasm out of him this second time. One of the luxurious, long and sweet ones. Not one of the earth shattering, overwhelming ones Crowley usually chases and has already experienced. Crowley seems to enjoy himself, but he’s impatient, greedy to come hard and fast again. Aziraphale tries to calm him down with soothing, long, sweet, deep kisses, his hips moving only enough to provide a lovely friction. Aziraphale himself could go on like this for ages. They have tried already - Aziraphale remembers these encounters as very special. He doesn’t want to fuck Crowley for a few hours straight. What he wants is to make Crowley feel all the love he deserves. Because he deserves all the love in the world.

“Angel…” gasps Crowley. He throws his legs around Aziraphale’s middle, tries to urge him to move deeper and faster.  
“I know. Close your eyes. Relax. Feel me. Feel yourself. You are so good, Crowley… so very good… so warm, so soft, so perfect for me… Feel me moving,” Aziraphale murmurs.  
“I feel you, but I want to feel you even more!”  
“Trust me, darling. You’ve done this before. Let me take care of you. Let me take care of everything. You’ll see how good it will feel. My beloved, my precious, my everything…”

Crowley is not only a bottom, but he also has a praise kink. Words like these always make him blush but arouse him to no end, too.  
“Angel…”  
“Shh… Feel us. Feel just us. You and me. Together. As it should always have been. I’m never going to let you go again. Never. And you know why? You belong to me.”  
Crowley looks up at Aziraphale, eyes wide. Never before has Aziraphale said something like that to him. A surge of lust and want grabs him and makes him shiver. And all the while Aziraphale moves his hips with the same, steady rhythm.  
“You are mine, Crowley. Mine alone. And it’s my pride and my duty to give you everything you need. To give you all the pleasure you deserve. And you deserve so much… do you feel good, my love?”

Crowley nods frantically. He does. Aziraphale feels incredible inside him. It feels even more intense because he has just had his first climax. The second one is just out of reach. This is the moment when Aziraphale rolls them both so that he is on his back. He plants his feet on the mattress, and it only takes them a few moments to build a new rhythm. Aziraphale fucks up into Crowley and licks his thumb. He gently touches it to Crowley’s clit, and the demon cries out in bliss. 

“Oh yes! Like this!” Crowley demands. Aziraphale’s thumb circles Crowley’s sensitive clit, and then finally Crowley is there. He comes long and slowly, shuddering and gasping. Finally he grabs Aziraphale’s wrist and pulls his hand away. It only takes Aziraphale a few more thrusts until he comes, too and pumps up into the welcoming heat of his wonderful body. Crowley has gone still above him, head thrown back in bliss. His whole body is flushed, he is panting and smiling, his fingers now interlaced with Aziraphale’s 

“My darling, this was divine…”, breathes Aziraphale. Crowley looks down at him now.  
“Don’t insult me, angel.” Then he starts to giggle. Aziraphale gently pulls him down, cradles him in his arms and rolls them both onto their side. His cock slips free, and Crowley feels warm angel’s seed seep out of him. He sighs, then kisses Aziraphale.  
“Thank you. For putting up with me. I know I’m… difficult these days,” he then admits. Aziraphale pushes a strand of Crowley’s hair out of his face.  
“I had millennia of practice to get used to your moods. It’s fine. All I want to do is make you feel better.”  
“You certainly did.”

Aziraphale peppers Crowley’s whole face with little kisses, until the demon giggles again and playfully shoves him away.  
“Stop that, or I get used to it. I’m starving, by the way. Is it already too late for breakfast?”  
Aziraphale laughs. “That’s why I came up here in the first place. I was thinking about pancakes. What do you think?”  
Crowley’s eyes brighten. “With Nutella?”  
Aziraphale snorts. “If you must…”  
“What? Nutella is one of the greatest achievements of mankind.”  
“Not for pancakes.”  
“For everything! Have you ever tried to put it into the fridge and then eat it cold with just a spoon? You can make little balls with it when it’s cold. They almost taste like chocolate truffles.”  
“No, they definitely don’t.”  
“But they do!”  
“I’m not fighting with you over Nutella. Go take a shower, I’ll start with the pancakes.”  
“Wait for me. You always do something that leaves lumps of flour in the batter. Let me do it.”  
“But I -”  
“No, angel,” Crowley says sternly now and leaves the bed. “I hate lumpy pancakes. Just give me ten minutes.” And with that he leaves for the bathroom.  
Aziraphale chuckles. Ten minutes… Never. But with a sigh he gets up, too, to get dressed and start with their late breakfast.


	6. Chapter 6

Since the first insecurity about his body was talked about and everything was sorted out, Crowley allows Aziraphale to see and touch him like he always had. It takes some weeks, but then Crowley parades around like he always has, hips swaying, now often caressing his baby bump. With the morning sickness gone, his appetite has returned (and quite increased, thank you very much) and all in all he looks radiant. When he sits in the sun, his hair is shining like copper, his skin is glowing, and he is more beautiful than ever before. 

He goes to bed every night now, craving sleep as much as food, and loves to snuggle close to Aziraphale’s warmth. The angel joins him in bed for long reading sessions and watches over him for the rest of the nights. Sometimes he pulls the still sleeping Crowley close, lays a hand on his growing middle and revels in the feeling of two lives under his palm. It still feels weird, knowing that their child is inside his lover’s body. But weird in the best of ways. 

A few weeks pass like this. In the daytime Crowley spends most of his time in the garden. He even starts to talk about keeping bees, but is still occupied with his plants. Heaven and hell have been keeping quiet, and it would have been bordering on “dull” if not for Aziraphale who has finally discovered Crowley’s laptop and the internet. Now he is researching everything about babies, children, pregnancies and child birth he can find. Of course he is keen on sharing his discoveries and he even suggests they take on a birthing class together. 

Crowley politely listens to all of this, but doesn’t comment much. He mostly smiles to himself, both hands on his gravid belly, and tells Aziraphale that “Nature will run it’s course, don’t worry too much. And bloody stop telling me in detail how my cunt will stretch and tear to accommodate this baby’s head!” He even agrees to take a look at this birthing class Aziraphale has found in Arundel, but doesn’t really want to attend it. Besides, there is still so much time! If they are right, then he is about 18 weeks gone now. That’s not even half the time of a human pregnancy. He is not impatient. Yet. But he knows himself well enough to know that the impatience will come sooner or later. Waiting and being patient have never been his strength. He sighs, turns the sound of the angel’s talking down to a soft murmur and just looks adoringly at him. 

Two weeks later Crowley is standing in the kitchen preparing dinner. Aziraphale had offered to help, and Crowley had let him try. But only for ten minutes, because it’s true: Aziraphale is hopeless in the kitchen. He even tried to peel an onion with a potato peeler, and that was enough of a nuisance for Crowley to send him out of the kitchen. He is much faster when he does everything on his own. Crowley has just thrown the pasta into the boiling water, when he feels something deep inside his body.

“Hah…” Crowley breathes, his eyes go wide. His hand moves to his baby bump, pasta and sauce forgotten for the moment. Aziraphale, who has of course heard the noise, is immediately alert. He leaves his book on his armchair and comes into the kitchen.  
“What is it? Are you alright, my dearest?”  
“I… I’m not sure, but… I think I can feel it.”  
Aziraphale stands awestruck and watches. Crowley stands in the middle of the kitchen, both hands on his gravid belly. He looks like he is listening and waits patiently. 

“Oh someone! This feels crazy!” he exclaims suddenly. His eyes search Aziraphale’s. A smile starts to spread over his face, he can’t help it.  
“How does it feel?” asks Aziraphale. He comes closer.  
“Like…” Crowley is searching for words to describe something that is undescribable. “It’s like… like twitching. Like a butterfly.”  
“May I?” Aziraphale stops right in front of Crowley, lifts a hand but doesn’t touch.  
Crowley shakes his head, chuckling. “You don’t have to ask, angel. It’s your baby. But I don’t think you will feel it. It’s much too weak.”

Nonetheless Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hands and puts them onto his belly. He is right, Aziraphale can’t feel anything - apart from the warmth of Crowley’s belly and his hands covering his own. Aziraphale looks down at their joined hands. He smiles.  
“I wish I could feel it, too. But I will. In time.”  
“You will, angel. I can’t wait for you to feel it.”  
They look at each other. Crowley feels more fluttering, and he starts to laugh softly. His growing bump had been proof there is something happening inside of him. Something important, some miracle. But now that he feels it, it becomes real: he can feel his baby moving. Their baby. It’s growing, is moving, and it’s getting stronger day by day. It’s still difficult for Crowley. It feels incredible to feel this new life inside him. On the other hand it scares him, fuels his insecurity. His conflicting feelings are difficult to process, make it hard to settle down. He hopes it will get better. 

For now he just enjoys the closeness they can share over this experience. They still stand in the kitchen, Aziraphale’s hands still on Crowley’s belly. He smiles at him.  
“Your body is creating a miracle. _You_ are creating a miracle.”  
“Real miracles have always been more your thing.”  
“Some things can change.” Aziraphale stretches to kiss Crowley on the lips. Crowley smiles, but then remembers he was cooking pasta and whirls around.  
“The sauce!” he exclaims. Aziraphale can’t help but laugh. Crowley curses, when he checks the pot with the bubbling sauce.  
“Lucky us, not burned. Set the table, angel, yes?”  
“Of course my darling.”

A few weeks later Aziraphale tries to coax Crowley out of bed. The demon seems to be in a mood today. He refuses to leave the bed, when Aziraphale calls him for breakfast. When Crowley doesn’t come down into the kitchen, the angel goes upstairs to look for him - immediately worried. 

“Crowley, darling?” he calls quietly and opens the door to their bedroom. Crowley is a lump in their shared bed, lying just like when Aziraphale had left him, duvet pulled up to his chin. His red hair is a tangled mess against the white silk pillow.  
“Are you alright, my love?” He sits down on the edge of the mattress. Crowley looks up at him only with his eyes.  
“’M staying in bed…”, he mumbles and snuggles deeper into his pillow.  
“What’s the matter? Do you feel sick? Any pain?” Azirapale reaches for him to put his hand on Crowley’s forehead. No fever.  
“Nah. Don’t feel like getting up…”  
“Oh… but I made breakfast. Don’t you want to have some coffee and some eggs?”  
“Not hungry.”  
“But you have to eat, dearest.”

Crowley doesn’t answer. He feels tired and miserable today. It’s as if a dark cloud is hiding the sun and refuses to melt under the warm sunshine. He sometimes has moods like this. Then he chooses to stay in bed for a day or two. Aziraphale rarely witnessed one of these moods before, because Crowley always found some excuses and avoided the angel on days like this.  
“I don’t have to do anything. Let me sleep, Zira,” Crowley closes his eyes. Aziraphale sighs.  
“But you just woke up. Look… take your time. Maybe take a nice shower, then you join me for breakfast and spend the day in the garden among your plants. It’s going to be a lovely day -”  
“I don’t want to, okay?” Crowley snaps, then turns his back to Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale licks his lips, not sure what to do. Crowley is never like this towards him. It irritates him.  
“Can I bring you something? At least a cup of tea and some toast?”  
“No! Is it so hard to understand? Do you want me to tell you in a different language?”  
“Alright, alright.” Aziraphale stands up.  
“But call me, if you need anything.” He leaves, worried and unhappy. He has breakfast alone, always listening for Crowley. But he doesn’t hear anything from upstairs. He tries to distract himself with some simple tasks like doing the washing up, some cleaning. But after two hours he has to go back upstairs to look for Crowley. 

The demon is still lying with his back to the door, when Aziraphales enters the bedroom.  
“Crowley?” he whispers, staying by the door, waiting. It takes a moment, until the demon groans.  
“What?”  
“Sorry, did I wake you?”  
“No.”  
“I just… wanted to make sure you are alright.”  
“I _am_ alright!” Crowley feels anger rising inside him. 

“Can’t you just leave me alone for some bloody fucking hours? We have spent the last months together night and day! All I want is some time!” Crowley now throws the duvet aside and leaves the bed. A snap of his fingers, and he is dressed in some black jeans, a loose fitting dark shirt and a simple jacket, his snake skin boots on his feet, hair in a messy bun. He reaches for his glasses and puts them on.  
“I need some space. Alone.”  
Aziraphale comes into the bedroom now. “But you can’t just leave! Where do you want to go?”  
“I don’t know, angel! I’ll know when I get there, okay?!” He hurries past Aziraphale out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Aziraphale follows closely behind.  
“But Crowley! I don’t like the idea of you being out all alone! What if something happens?”  
“Nothing happens! That’s the fucking problem! We sit here, in the countryside, and absolutely nothing happens! I could crawl out of my skin, I’m bored!”  
“But you work in your garden every day. I thought you love the garden!”  
“I do, but I need some distraction!” 

Crowley is already out of the cottage and snaps his fingers again to unlock the door of the Bentley.  
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” he says, then throws himself behind the steering wheel and slams the door shut. He starts the engine. Aziraphale has the feeling he should really let Crowley go for a few hours. But before he can allow that, he knocks at the window. Crowley hesitates for a second, but in the end does roll down the window. He doesn’t even look up.  
“What?”  
“Do you at least have your phone with you?”  
“Yes.” But that’s the last thing he says before he drives off. 

Aziraphale is torn. What now? He could follow Crowley - he has wings, after all. But that would require a few miracles too much for his liking: manifesting his wings, making himself invisible and disguising himself from Crowley’s demonic sense… at least three miracles that would certainly raise suspicion from up above. He doesn’t want to risk that. But can he risk, that Crowley gets into trouble? He’s pregnant, after all. Aziraphale wrings his hands. The Bentley has long vanished down the road, inside the two most important and most precious things of Aziraphale’s world. Finally he sighs and accepts his fate. He will have to wait until Crowley comes back. Hopefully in a much better mood.

Crowley instinctively drives towards London. How he craves some distraction! The big, busy city will be a balm for his soul. He reaches into his pocket for his phone, when he feels it buzzing. A quick glance on the display: message from Aziraphale. Crowley is surprised. With a swipe of his finger he opens the message. It simply says: “Stay safe. I love you.” So Aziraphale has finally figured out how to use a mobile phone and send a text.  
“Stunning, angel. About time,” he grins and shoves the phone back into his pocket. He’s going to answer that later. Not even he is so stupid to text back while driving. 

At his usual unreasonable speed Crowley arrives in London way earlier than he had hoped. He parks the Bentley near St. James’s Park and sighs happily when he starts walking towards the River Thames. The streets around Westminster Bridge and the Houses of parliament are always crowded with tourists. Crowley usually avoids them, but today he needs this. He slowly makes his way through the many people on the streets. Dozens of them pose for selfies (What a stroke of genius to invent them! He still prouds himself for this invention, one of his finest achievements. Got him a commendation downstairs - even if his fellow demons never quite got used to using modern technologies.) 

Crowley walks along the river towards Tower Bridge. Why is he so keen on walking along with the humans today? But fact is: he enjoys it immensely and decides to do some shopping later. Always helps him with his moods. On his way towards the Tower of London he passes St. Paul’s Cathedral. He stops for a moment and looks at the enormous beautiful church from a distance. Crowley had seen his fill of churches over the centuries. He has been to St. Paul’s, has even seen St. Peter’s dome in Rome. All before they were consecrated. Crowley remembers in vivid detail how he had wandered through St. Paul’s cathedral all on his own in the night, carrying a small hand lantern. It had been a strange experience. All the more because he knew he would never be able to visit the cathedral again without suffering a lot of pain. He remembers The Blitz, when he rescued Aziraphale and his precious books from the Nazis. The visit to the church with it’s consecrated ground had been more than a little unpleasant. His feet had burned for days, even if he had never shown any signs of that in Aziraphale’s presence.

Crowley smiles sadly to himself, touches his belly. Will his child be able to visit a church? Will his child be able to admire the beauty and the unbelievable effort humans put into their churches? He can’t know at the moment. This uncertainty was part of his misery this morning. He has woken up to the now familiar feeling inside his body of another being moving inside him. And he had been wondering about this little being, had asked himself the same questions again and again. What is it? Will it be good? Will it be bad? Which parts of it will be demonic, which will be angelic? Will he be able to raise it? Are they prepared for what’s to come? A thousand questions and uncertainties. He had to flee. Needed a change of scenery. Needed a time out from all these maddening questions. He feels much better. The normal life around him grounds him. Strange as it may be, he feels better already. 

So Crowley resumes his way along the river and up to the Tower of London. He has been here, too, in the old times. He had been among the audience, when Anne Boleyn had been beheaded. Aziraphale had been there, too. So many memories, so much time spent with the angel, but so much time lost to them. And now Crowley has fled from his love to have some time alone. How stupid! He immediately misses Aziraphale and decides to buy him a present. Some expensive chocolates and his favorite tea. So Piccadilly and Fortnum & Mason it was then. Hm. Silly. The opposite direction from where he is now. 

But he has all the time in the world today. He can pretend to be a tourist. Just enjoy London. Just enjoy some hours without dark thoughts clouding his mood. And in fact it helps to just stroll around, let himself drift among the humans. He throws some money into the hat of a street musician and buys a homeless woman a tea and a sandwich. Being a demon doesn’t necessarily mean he has to condemn others to a brutal fate… 

On his way through London Crowley passes Liberty, and a thought comes to his mind. He looks down at his gravid belly, feels his child kicking as if it wants to tell him something.  
“Shh… you don’t have a say in that…” he hisses and walks on. Turns around, looks up at the front of the big department store, hesitates. For quite a while. Walks past Liberty, turns to take a short walk round Carnaby Street and finally he can’t resist any longer. He has to take a look. 

Crowley enters the store and after studying the chart next to the elevator goes up to the children’s department. When he exits the lift, he hesitates again, but other customers want to get out here, too. And so Crowley is forced to enter this section of the store if he wants to or not. It only takes him a few minutes to find the section for the babies. He knows, modern mums can make quite a fuss about their children. Especially when there’s some money involved. He has seen many babies and toddlers dressed in designer brands and has never understood this appeal. When he had been nanny Ashtoreth, Warlock had already been five years old. So he hadn’t experienced this need of young mothers first hand. But of course young Warlock had at the age of five owned already more clothes than his father. 

Crowley had always looked at this attitude with suspicion. In his opinion especially babies needed food, sleep and love. The clothes should be functional, and that’s it. But right now he understands why so many mothers love to shop for their young. It’s overwhelming and it’s terribly cute. And Crowley hates, that he finds it cute. But wander around he does. He looks at all these tiny little clothes, takes some onesies in his hands, touches the soft fabric, holds up a pair a incredibly tiny socks and sighs. This won’t be easy… But just when he is determined to turn and leave, a shop assistant approaches him, smiling. 

“How can I help you, miss? Are you looking for something specific?”  
Crowley swallows. Usually he would answer with a snide remark, but right now he is caught off guard.  
“I was just looking around and… does one need all of this?”  
The woman chuckles. “Honestly? I suppose not. But some basic things are really necessary. Your first, I assume?” She looks at the baby bump clearly visible underneath Crowley’s shirt.  
“Yeah… came as a surprise, really.”  
“Oh… congratulations nonetheless. Shall I help you a little with the basics?”  
Before he can stop himself, Crowley nods. Even if he doesn’t actually need any help. But he can’t resist his nesting urges any longer. And so he follows the young shop assistant, who points out the things absolutely necessary. 

An hour later he leaves Liberty with a big bag full of the most basic things a newborn might need. He can’t bring himself to buy more right now. There will only be some care products and nappies he has to get. And a bassinet for the baby to sleep in. Nothing more. Not until he can be sure everything is alright with it. This dark cloud of uncertainty is back and still bothers him and makes it difficult to be happy about this pregnancy. Crowley follows Regent Street and then turns on to Piccadilly towards Fortnum & Mason to get Aziraphale his tea and some chocolates. He buys everything on the ground floor and then goes up to the Parlour in desperate need for something to eat. He didn’t have breakfast, and he is starving. 

The waitress accompanies him to a table, hands him a menu and leaves him for a few minutes to decide what he wants. Crowley feels a little stirring inside his belly and reaches down to rub over the spot.  
“Patience, damn it,” he whispers, but with a smile. Even if he still doesn’t know what kind of baby he is expecting, he feels a deep affection towards it.  
“Have you decided?” asks the waitress. Crowley closes the menu.  
“A pot of tea, the royal blend. Welsh rarebit and a carrot cake, please,” he orders. The waitress smiles.  
“I had some strange cravings, too, when I was pregnant. I’ll tell the kitchen to hurry up.”

After his somewhat unusual lunch Crowley saunters back to his Bentley. Instead of driving directly back to Arundel, he drives to his flat to leave the baby things he has bought in his flat. He checks the flat, finds everything untouched and decides to make himself a coffee and enjoy the view from his balcony for another hour. While he sits in the sun and looks over to the Houses of Parliament, he thinks about some things he has never dared to address to Aziraphale, knowing the angel wouldn’t be able to understand. For example the terrible fear that still grips Crowley when he thinks too much about the baby inside him.

He can’t explain the mess of the feelings that move him. When he felt the first movement of his child, he had been terrified and overjoyed at the same time. Now he feels his baby moving every day, has gotten used to the sensation. Sometimes he can just enjoy it like every mother does. Other days are more complicated. Because he doesn’t know what to expect. How this baby will turn out to be. He tries to avoid thinking about worst case scenarios, but thought about them he has. And is on his way to a decision that’s hard on him and that still bothers him. He doesn’t know how he will do this, but he wants to give birth alone, with no one present. Not even Aziraphale. He has already thought about it a lot and knows, that if things go wrong, he is the only one to make the right decision. He desperately hopes he doesn’t have to… 

“Angel? I’m back!” Crowley throws the keys of his car onto a table by the door and isn’t surprised in the slightest, when Aziraphale hurries to greet him. He still looks worried.  
“My dearest! Are you alright?”  
“Yes, I’m fine. Brought you something.” Crowley lifts the green bag with the brand logo of Fortnum & Mason, but Aziraphale ignores it. He comes over and pulls Crowley into a gentle hug.  
“I was so worried… Are you really fine? Are you tired? Shall I make us some tea?”  
Crowley grins. “Tea sounds good. Hello, angel.” He kisses Aziraphale on the lips to shut him up and finds that kissing him makes him feel much better.  
“Did you eat something? How is the little one doing?” asks Aziraphale. Crowley takes his hand and pulls him into the kitchen.  
“Yes, I had lunch. And the baby is fine. London is still the best city of the world. And as much as I like our cottage, I can’t wait to go back to London.” He unpacks the bag and finally Aziraphale realizes that Crowley has been to his favorite department store.  
“I’m sorry I left you like this,” Crowley grumbles and hands Aziraphale the big box of chocolates he has bought for him.  
“My dear, no need to apologize. I just wish I could have helped you with what ever it was that was bothering you.”  
“Just one of my moods. You know they always pass. So - what about that tea you were talking about?”

“Why did you leave?” Aziraphale asks a little later over tea and chocolates. They are sitting in the garden in the shade of one of the big trees surrounding it.  
“Like I said: one of my moods.”  
“But you can talk to me about everything.”  
“I know. Sorry I worried you. But… I needed some distraction. London is always a good distraction. We should visit London together soon. You can take a look at your shop. See if everything’s fine. We can have lunch or tea at the Ritz, if you like.”  
“I don’t care about the Ritz. And the shop will be fine. I care about you.”  
Crowley sighs. He reaches for Aziraphale’s hand and gently squeezes it. He can’t admit how grateful he really is to have him. He just looks at him, and Aziraphale smiles. He understands. As always. Without any word. They’ve known each other long enough. Crowley smiles back, before he turns his face towards the sun and closes his eyes, enjoys the warmth of the sun on his face.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ups and downs... do I make it too hard for poor Crowley?


	7. Chapter 7

“Aziraphale! Aziraphale, quick!”  
Aziraphale’s head whips around at the loud shout from Crowley. Aziraphale had been in the living room with Crowleys laptop, reading up something about childcare, while Crowley was outside in the garden, tending to some of his flower beds. Aziraphale leaves the laptop open and hurries out. Did something bad happen? Crowley’s shout had sounded urgent, and Aziraphale’s heart is racing. The demon is kneeling next to one of his flower beds: in a loose fitting cropped jeans and a loose fitting shirt, barefoot, his clothes decorated with some soil. Next to him on the ground are some secateurs and gardening gloves. Crowley has both hands on his belly. 

“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale runs over the lawn, the worst nightmares starting to raise their ugly heads. Crowley is roughly 26 weeks pregnant. If something goes wrong now, it would be fatal.  
“What is it? Are you in pain?” Aziraphale kneels down next to Crowley, not caring about his cream colored trousers. The demon shakes his head, takes the angel’s hands and puts them onto his baby bump.  
“Wait for it, angel…” Crowley breathes, and they both go still. Aziraphale is still concerned, but then he can feel it under his palm: a movement. He gasps.  
“Oh! Is that…”

Crowley nods and looks at Aziraphale. The angel’s lips are slightly parted, there is a look of concentration on his face mixed with disbelief and then joy, when he feels it again. Crowley feels as if his heart could burst out of his chest. He knows exactly how Aziraphale feels now. It had been the same for him when he had felt the first movements inside him some weeks ago. It’s scary, it’s strange, it’s wonderful and terrifying and makes it clear: their baby is growing inside him.  
“Oh my god, darling! That’s amazing!” Aziraphale exclaims. 

Crowley can’t help but laugh. Of course Aziraphale would be overwhelmed with happiness. It’s clearly visible on his face. He looks at his and Crowley’s hands, crouches even more and leans forward.  
“Hello, little one,” he says, “I’m your papa. You don’t know me, yet. But I can’t wait to see you for the first time.”  
Crowley swallows hard. Hearing Aziraphale talk like this… just like any human man would. He can understand what’s going on inside him. He sits still and let’s him enjoy this experience, this first contact with his child. He looks down at the white blond curls and feels so much love for this angel that it almost scares him. How come a demon love an angel so much? 

Aziraphale is awestruck by the experience of feeling his child move beneath his palms. What a glorious moment this is! This tiny new life is already strong enough to do such incredible things. Aziraphale knows the baby is able to hear and see. It can suck his own thumb and swallows some of the amniotic fluid it’s floating in. First Braxton Hicks are most likely to occur soon. It’s only 14 weeks left until the baby will be born. Aziraphale very slowly starts to realize how fast these last weeks will be over. He is more and more terrified of the birth with every week that passes. But for now he tries to concentrate on his little son or daughter that is safely nested inside Crowley’s body. He smiles, when he bends forward again and whispers: “You will be so welcome, my little one. We can’t wait to meet you. You will be so loved, little one…”  
Crowley swallows again. He has only one hope: that everything will turn out to be okay… 

*

“Oh damn!” Crowley curses when he feels the first Braxton Hicks. His whole belly is hard like a football, and it feels weird. He is glad that Aziraphale is inside. Crowley let’s the secateurs he had in his hand fall to the grass and grips his belly with both hands. He has read about Braxton Hicks and has already waited for them. It doesn’t really hurt, but it’s not pleasant, either. He decides to sit down for a moment and goes over to the chair standing in the shadow of the big tree. He slowly sits down and rubs his belly. The strange feeling has already ebbed away but returns a few minutes later. It lasts for only a minute or so. Nothing to worry about. And it shows him that everything seems to be alright. 

He hasn’t once seen a doctor during the whole pregnancy. Aziraphale has tried to convince him to make an appointment with a gynaecologist, but Crowley has always refused. He doesn’t want to risk anything. If someone discovered that he was not human it would require a not so small miracle to make them forget about it. Far too much effort, and he feels fine after all. He has already learned that the baby has a distinct rhythm: when it sleeps, when it’s awake, what movements it characteristically makes. He has experienced the strange feeling when the baby hiccups, how it feels when it turns inside him. He has come to know this little being and knows when something is different. He wonders if the child feels it when the uterus gets hard. That’s something new for the baby. But it will get used to it. The Braxton Hicks will continue for a few weeks. Only about twelve more weeks to go now. And then they will be parents… 

It’s still difficult for Crowley to think about himself as a parent. He’s still not sure how to approach his new role. He has given much thought to the first time after the birth. Since breastfeeding seems to be an easy, cheap and logical way to feed his baby, he wants to give it a try. This includes he will have to stay a woman for quite a while longer, maybe even half a year until they can start with solid food. It feels crazy to think about things like these. But they have come naturally to Crowley. Aziraphale has of course done his research via books but in fact mostly online. The demon already regrets he has introduced Aziraphale to the internet. But it’s too late now. Aziraphale is digging up information Crowley doesn’t want to hear or see. He mostly tries not to listen too closely to whatever Aziraphale comes up with. He has started to enjoy most aspects of the pregnancy. Having to pee constantly is not part of this. He again feels the need to go and so leaves his place in the garden to go to the bathroom and take a look at whatever Aziraphale is doing with his laptop. 

After he has finished his task, he goes over to Aziraphale. The angel is sitting at the kitchen table, looking up recipes. Which Crowley is thankful for - no research about babies or child birth today.  
“Already hungry, angel?” Crowley asks while he bends over and presses a kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek.  
“Hm? Oh, I was wondering if you should take up a special diet. You’re about 28 weeks pregnant. I don’t want you to risk any malnutrition.”  
Crowley groans. “I don’t think there is any risk. Don’t be so concerned. You should be more concerned about my appearance.”  
“Your appearance?” Aziraphale turns and looks at Crowley.  
“I need some new clothes. I thought about a little trip to London. You wanna join me?”  
“Do you really think it wise to drive to London in your condition?”  
“I can’t spend all my time in the garden. And don’t you want me to look sexy for you, hm?”  
“You always look sexy to me, darling.”  
“But I don’t feel like it.”  
Aziraphale looks at Crowley and pulls the demon onto his lap. He puts a hand onto his round belly.  
“Because of this? You don’t need to worry, dearest. I find you incredibly sexy.” He lifts his other hand to push a strand of hair from Crowley’s forehead, then he pulls him into a kiss. Crowley sighs into their kiss which gets a little more demanding with every breath they take. Aziraphale’s hand glides from Crowley’s baby bump up to his chest and gently cups one of his breasts over the fabric of the tunic he is wearing today. 

Crowley wriggles on Aziraphale’s lap in search for a better position, where he doesn’t have to turn his neck so far to the side. After a moment he gets up for a second and then settles back onto Aziraphale’s lap with his legs open, straddling him. Azirapahle smiles, then Crowley bends down to kiss him again. This feels even better. He lets his hands roam freely now over Crowley’s body and finally under the tunic. Crowley gasps, when Aziraphale cups both his breasts and touches his thumbs to his erect nipples.  
“Off!”, he demands and lifts his arms for Aziraphale to take the tunic off.  
“What ever you wish, my dear…” 

Crowley is a real sight with his bare upper body. His hair has grown, the red strands as always a beautiful contrast to his skin. He has more freckles than ever from his time in the garden, and the sun has left a beautiful light suntan on his skin. Crowley feels the hard press of Aziraphale’s cock beneath him. His hands trail down to cup his erection over the fabric of his trousers. Aziraphale moans.  
“I think London can wait for a few minutes longer, yes?” the angel asks breathlessly.  
“I’m sure it can.” Crowley throws his head back and leans forward. Aziraphale takes the hint. He begins to plant kisses all over Crowley’s breasts and gently sucks his nipples, teases them with the tip of his tongue. Not only Crowley has a clever tongue. 

Crowley feels himself getting wet. Aziraphale always has this effect on him. He fumbles to open Aziraphale’s trousers and free his cock. A quick snap of his fingers lets his underwear beneath his skirt disappear. While he scoots closer, he pushes the skirt up and out of the way. Aziraphale gets what he wants to do. He helps a little and moans, when his cock enters Crowley’s wet cunt. Crowley supports himself with his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders and begins to move.  
“Oh my darling… how beautiful you look…” Aziraphale breathes.  
Crowley doesn’t answer but concentrates on fucking himself on Aziraphale’s cock. But he gets impatient after a few moments, because this doesn’t feel right. 

“Not deep enough, angel. Please, deeper!”  
“Can’t. Your belly…”  
“Oh for someone’s sake!” Crowley is on his feet within the second. He turns and bends over the worktop. He can practically hear Aziraphale swallow. But he is behind him without hesitation. He positions the tip of his cock against Crowley’s cunt.  
“You tell me if something doesn’t feel right, yes?”  
“Yes, angel, promise. Please! Now!”  
And with a single slow thrust Aziraphale presses in. Crowley moans wantonly. “That’s it. That’s better…”  
“Oh you tempter… how do you always do this?”  
Crowley laughs. “I had millennia to think about it! Move, angel!”  
Aziraphale sets a slow pace to start with, giving Crowley the chance to get used to being fucked so deeply. Crowley sighs with every thrust, his delicate fingers splayed on the worktop. Aziraphale runs his hands over the warm skin of his back and flanks, then he bends over and reaches one hand around. When he touches Crowley’s swollen clit, the demon gasps and shivers.  
“Oh yes! Yes, yes, yes!”  
Aziraphale smiles while his hips and fingers move simultaneously, both creating just the right kind of stimulation. Aziraphale has to close his eyes. This is intense. He is balls deep into Crowley’s lovely warm cunt and his orgasm is building faster than he thought.  
“Are you there, Crowley? Please tell me you’re close!”  
The demon can’t answer, he just nods and moans.  
“Then come for me, love!” Aziraphale demands. His free hand grabs a handful of Crowley’s luxurious long hair and gently pulls just enough to make Crowley’s scalp tingle. And with some harder thrusts he is coming, and so is Crowley, his cunt spasming around Aziraphale’s cock. When he is spent, Aziraphale let’s go of Crowley’s hair, presses himself against his lover and breathes deep. Crowley beneath him chuckles. 

“Hope you still have enough strength to accompany me to London, angel.”  
“Are you joking? You really want to drive to London now?”  
“Not right now, but once you’ve got your breath back?”  
Aziraphale groans. “Must we?”  
“We could take a look if everything is fine with your shop. And we can have tea at the Ritz. Come on. It’s been ages since our last visit at the Ritz.”  
“Fine. But give me one more minute.”

Crowley looks lovely in the outfit he has chosen to drive to London. He’s wearing some stylish wrap dress in a very dark shade of green with a split front to show off his long, strong legs. He has combined the dress with a black sunhat, some new sunglasses that look a little like cat’s eyes and a pair of golden sandals. He is a real sight, and even though he is visibly pregnant and has a man by his side, there are many gazes following him. Aziraphale is patiently following him through the department stores and boutiques Crowley browses in search for some dresses. As always the demon has high standards. He might prefer to miracle himself his clothes once he has chosen a style he likes. But if he wants something new, he can be very picky and difficult until he has found the right stuff.

“No! Something short! And no flower patterns!” Crowley dismisses most of the dresses in the maternity section Aziraphale has pointed out to him.  
“But these look very nice.”  
“What did I tell you about me and being nice, angel? I’m a demon, I’m not nice!” hisses Crowley into his ear. Aziraphale sighs. He is glad about the air condition in the department store, but it’s still too warm for his liking. And he’s not even wearing his coat, just his dress shirt. He even left his bow tie at home. Aziraphale takes a step back and makes room for Crowley. Finally the demon picks out some dresses, which Aziraphale carries for him. They walk over to the changing rooms, and Crowley disappears into one of the cubicles. 

Aziraphale waits patiently for him, listens for the rustling of fabric and muttered comments from Crowley.  
“Angel? Take a look.”  
Aziraphale pulls the curtain aside and smiles. Crowley has chosen a dark blue dress with short sleeves that ends just above his knees. It flows loosely over his pregnant belly.  
“What do you think?” He turns and looks at his reflection in the mirror.  
“You look beautiful whatever you wear. It suits you.”  
“I want something black.”  
“You mentioned it once or twice. But it’s summer, it’s scalding outside, and you tell me you want a black dress of all the colors in the world? I don’t want you to get a heat stroke when you work in the garden.”  
“Oh you’re always exaggerating.” 

But Crowley has to admit Aziraphale has a point. And since no one will see him in them, he buys three wonderful short dresses - one a pale grey, one green with a leaf pattern and one made of a light denim fabric. He also buys some shirts, some tops and two pairs of shorts. Aziraphale carries the bags for him, and they end the day with a late tea time at the Ritz.

*

When Aziraphale comes home from the shops, the saddlebags on his bike filled with the shopping for the rest of the week, he is sweating. It’s mid August, and even if it’s still not even near noon, it’s already hot. It’s a sunny day again, the weather forecast promising a few more days of full summer weather. Aziraphale carries the bags into the cottage and puts them onto the kitchen counter. He catches a glimpse of Crowley in the back garden and freezes in amazement. Shopping forgotten for the moment, he goes over to the window and looks at his lover. 

Crowley is sitting in the sun on a little stool, and he is preening his wings. What a sight he is! His hair has grown out even more, the glossy red curls falling freely down between his shoulder blades. His back is to the house, so his beautiful wings are on full display. The right one is pointing forward, and Aziraphale can see Crowley’s delicate fingers working the feathers. He swallows. He has seen Crowley’s wings only a few times. The last time had been when they had prepared Adam Young for his confrontation with Satan. Aziraphale has always admired the perfect beauty of Crowley’s wings. They look even more amazing now in the summer sun. It’s not easy tearing himself away from this sight, but he has to put the shopping away. He hurries to do so, before he takes off his coat and opens the door to the garden.

“Hello, love…” Aziraphale greets, smiling. Crowley has of course heard the slide of the door opening and turns halfway to smile up at Aziraphale.  
“Angel…”  
“My my, darling, you look amazing,” says Aziraphale. He bends down to kiss Crowley lovingly on the lips, but doesn’t dare touch his wings. Touching some other angel’s wings without explicit permission is considered not only rude but indecent. Aziraphale has no idea how demons handle this. 

“Woke up with a telltale itch. Haven’t done this in a while, and it was about time.” Crowley points at a little basket standing next to his feet with an assortment of dark feathers of different shapes and sizes.  
“Your wings are the most amazing things…”, breathes Aziraphale and reaches out as if to touch, but stops himself.  
Crowley sees the movement and thinks for a moment, before he asks: “Would you help me? Some areas are always a little difficult to reach as you well know.”  
Aziraphale’s heart skips a beat. “You would really let me?”  
Crowley looks at him. He’s sans his glasses, like he is most of the time now, and there is trust in his golden eyes.  
“No one else but you.”  
“Oh… Well, then… let me get another stool.”

A few minutes later Aziraphale is sitting right behind Crowley. His shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and he is very carefully preening Crowley’s wings. His wings are in top shape despite the loose or disheveled feathers. The dark plumage is shining in the summer sun.  
“There are quite many new feathers,” Aziraphale says while he gently works Crowley’s wings.  
“I think that’s because of the pregnancy”, answers Crowley. He has his eyes closed, face to the sun. He is only wearing a pair of shorts and a bandeau top to cover his breasts. His hands gently caress his baby bump while he enjoys the attention Aziraphale pays to his wings.  
“I’m sure it is. They are so shiny. Just like your hair. It has never been this beautiful.”  
Crowley doesn’t answer. He himself has always liked his looks, but it’s still strange to hear compliments from someone.

Aziraphale hesitates to ask Crowley about something that’s come to his mind while he is preening Crowley’s wings.  
“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”  
“Sure. Go on.”  
“The other… fallen angels…. do they all take such good care of their wings?”  
Crowley pulls a face. Being reminded of his fellow demons is not a very pleasant feeling.  
“Erm… No. No, they don’t usually use them, so they don’t see any sense in doing so.” He shivers, because he remembers the one and only time he has seen Hastur’s wings. During a very unpleasant punishment Hastur had received from a higher authority. Hastur’s wings had been a real mess with plenty broken and frayed feathers, bald spots between them.  
“I don’t use them on a regular basis either, but… you know me, angel. I am a vain bastard. Always on the top of my game.”  
“But they all still have their wings, or don’t they? Did some lose them during their fall?”

Crowley swallows. He remembers his fall all too well. His statement in 1861 comes to his mind where he had told Aziraphale during their argument that he had sauntered vaguely downward. A lie. The pain during his fall had been almost unbearable. The fall had singed his wings and burnt all of his feathers. His amazing white feathers, speckled with little flecks of rose gold in the ends of the big quill feathers… He had cried - not only because of the pain but out of fear they would never grow back. When they had grown back over the time of more than a year he had been changed forever, for the new feathers had been a dark charcoal, the tips of his quill feathers a glossy black. It had taken him some time to get used to them. He could understand why his fellow demons couldn’t get used to them and couldn’t stand the forever changed wings. But Crowley had decided to make the best of it and had taken the best care of his wings. Because he was in fact a vain bastard. And he was immensely proud of his wings now. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale can sense that his question brings back unwanted memories. “You don’t have to answer. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to remind you.”  
Crowley shivers, and his feathers ruffle for a moment. He clears his throat.  
“No, erm… it’s fine. You… you don’t lose the wings during the fall. But… the feathers. And they are irrevocably changed when they grow back. Some demons… wanted to get rid of them entirely.”  
“Get rid of them? But how?”  
Crowley worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “It’s… painful. And gruesome. Requires some demonic miracle. You don’t really want to know.”  
“Oh…” Aziraphale is working on the small soft feathers close to Crowley’s back now - the part that’s most difficult to do on your own.  
“They were white once…” whispers Crowley, barely audible. Aziraphale licks his lips. He has heard Crowley’s words. And looking at the perfect black plumage of Crowley’s wings he feels tears fill his eyes. How amazing and glorious Crowley must have looked with white wings, his long red hair billowing in the wind… 

He bends forward and gently and lovingly plants kisses between Crowley’s shoulder blades. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, my dearest… So sorry…”  
Crowley leans back a little, and Aziraphale puts his arms around him and holds him close.  
“That’s what you get when you ask too many questions and hang around the wrong people…” He places his hands over Aziraphale’s to distract them both from dark thoughts at such a lovely summer day and guides Aziraphale’s hands onto his belly.  
“I would never have met you if I hadn’t fallen. Maybe we should be grateful.”  
“I am truly grateful that I met you. But not for the pain you had to endure.”  
“The pain was so long ago… I’m fine now. Really.”  
Crowley feels Aziraphale sigh, but neither of them speaks anymore. Until Crowley slowly turns his head and asks: “Do you want me to preen your wings, too? I could return the favor.”  
“Oh, thank you. But there’s no need now. Wouldn’t want to exhaust you.”  
“It would be my pleasure. I never touched your wings…”

It dawns on Aziraphale that the preening has stirred something in Crowley. He has shown the deepest trust in him letting him preen his wings. He had been severely injured in the old times. It’s hard for Aziraphale to imagine how difficult it must have been for him to let Aziraphale do this for him. And he understands that he, too, should show the same trust. He can sense that it would mean much for Crowley.  
“You know what? You’re right. I’m too lazy to look after my wings like I should,” Aziraphale then says and lets go. He quickly gets rid of his dress shirt. Crowley is standing already, taking a step back, giving Aziraphale room. The angel smiles at him, then rolls his shoulders and with a rustle and a swoosh his white wings unfold. Aziraphale can’t remember when he has last used them to fly. Must be centuries, if not millennia… He shakes his wings out and takes a look at them. Not that bad, but they could be in a better condition. 

“Well… My turn, then, I suppose,” Aziraphale smiles. They sit down. Crowley admires the beauty of Aziraphales white feathers. Before he touches for the first time, he asks tentatively: “May I, angel?”  
“Of course. Just tell me if you need me to move or something.”  
Crowley takes a last deep breath, then he lays his hands onto the strong wings. He feels the bones, the strong muscles and the tendons beneath the smooth feathers. How strong they are! They seem more muscular and thicker than his own. But that makes sense. Aziraphale was a soldier. He was the guardian of the eastern gate. He’s not an ordinary angel. Crowley admires the strength and beauty of these wings and is grateful that he is allowed to touch. But he also sees, that the wings really do need a good preening. With a smile he starts to work. 

*

It’s already mid September. The evenings are starting to get chilly, and they can’t sit outside as long as they used to. But the days are still pleasant, when the sun is shining. Crowley enjoys the sun warming his skin. Even with his sunglasses on, his eyes closed, he is still able to detect a multitude of red from the sun that is standing right above him. He takes a deep breath and exhales with a slight hiss of pleasure. Aziraphale has hidden in the house. He doesn’t like sunbathing. At all. Crowley instead is only in a pair of lose fitting shorts and a t-shirt that he has pushed up over his gravid belly to only cover his breasts. He feels the movements of his child beneath his navel and smiles. The baby seems to enjoy the warmth of the sun as much as he does. He tries to get as much warmth and sun as he can before fall and winter come. He hates winter. Hates the cold. He hopes his child will cope better with the cold. 

Aziraphale comes out, a glass of water in his hand.  
“You should drink something.” He hands Crowley the glass. The demon growls. “Don’t disturb my sunbath.”  
“You old serpent. You never get sunburnt. That’s not fair.”  
Crowley takes two big gulps of water. He had in fact been thirsty. “Scales don’t burn.”  
“You don’t have any at the moment.”  
“Doesn’t mean they are not there. Besides - this will probably be my last sunbath. I’m just preparing for the winter.”  
“But you’re not going into a hibernation sleep, don’t you?”  
Crowley laughs. “No, angel. Besides, that would mean I would miss our baby growing up.”

Aziraphale pulls the other deck chair closer and sits down.  
He asks: “Shouldn’t we start to prepare for the birth? I mean… once the baby is born, it will need many things. Clothes. Nappies. A bed and all this stuff.”  
“Babies don’t need much. And… besides… I have already bought most of what’s absolutely necessary.”  
Aziraphale looks at him, shocked and hurt. “You have? Without me?”  
“When I was in London that day when I was in that bad mood. Sorry, angel, I should have told you.” Crowley extends a hand and reaches for Aziraphale’s.  
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”  
Aziraphale sees the bad conscience on Crowley’s face and he can’t be cross with him. But he must admit to himself that he is disappointed. Nonetheless he smiles.  
“Nothing to forgive. What did you buy for the little one?”  
“Just like I said: only what the baby really needs.”  
“I can’t wait to see all of it. Will you show me?”  
“Oh, I… left everything in London. It’s in my flat.”  
That brings another question to Aziraphale’s mind. “Have you already thought about my suggestions? About a midwife?”

Crowley licks his lips. “Not really,” he lies.  
“But you should. We only have a few weeks left. I don’t want us to be unprepared.”  
“We’re not. You read everything on this earth that is worth reading about child birth and all that stuff. You could very easily write you own encyclopedia about it.”  
“I have read much, yes. But the more I read the more I realize how complex this is. And that we could use some help.”  
“I’ll think about it. Promise.”  
Aziraphale can sense Crowley’s reluctance to discuss the birth. He’s not sure how to react to that. The only thing he can think about is the things that could go wrong. And that he wants to avoid what he can. Crowley’s lips on his hand drag him back to reality.  
“Angel - you worry too much. We will be fine”, he says.  
Aziraphale nods and smiles. “We will.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get serious for them now...
> 
> cw: brief discussion of having to kill a child... so sorry...

Aziraphale watches Crowley waddle in from the garden where he has napped in the mid October sun, tucked up in a warm blanket. Said blanket is now wrapped around his body, and he groans, one hand holding the blanket, the other rubbing his back. Aziraphale pities him for the discomfort he’s in. He can’t seem to relax anymore. Even sleeping is difficult now. Nearly every night Crowley gets up after a few hours to walk around for a while or even take a bath. It’s not only his back, but his hips, too. They are adjusting to the progressing pregnancy, preparing to make room for the baby to be born. 

Aziraphale leaves the sofa and comes over to gently pull Crowley into his arms. The demon sighs heavily and leans against him.  
“Poor thing… I’m so sorry you’re feeling like this… Shall I give you a backrub?”  
“Dunno… everything hurts…”  
Aziraphale presses a loving kiss to Crowley’s temple. “Come on up to the bedroom, my love.”  
Aziraphale accompanies him up the stairs and into the bedroom. They have done this before, and so they follow their usual routine. Since Crowley can’t lie on his stomach, he spreads the blanket on their bed and takes off his shirt, before he lies down on his side. Aziraphale fetches the almond oil from the bathroom. He takes off his cardigan and rolls up his sleeves, before he sits behind Crowley. He warms some of the oil in his hands, then spreads it lovingly over Crowley’s back.  
“Tell me if something hurts too much, love.” 

Crowley closes his eyes and tries to relax. Aziraphale starts the massage gently. He feels how knotted Crowley’s muscles are. Carrying all the extra weight is exhausting him. Aziraphale has noticed that Crowley’s belly has slightly dropped in the last few days which can only mean that the baby is soon to come. That makes Aziraphale secretly worried. He had suggested they go to a birthing class together, but Crowley had somehow managed to duck out of it. Aziraphale still isn’t sure how he has done that. Now it’s too late anyway. 

“Feeling alright, love?”  
Crowley gives an answering purr. “Better…”  
“Good.” Aziraphale gives a little more pressure now. Crowley groans, when Aziraphale’s soft but strong fingers start to losen the knots in his back.  
“Okay?”  
“Hmhm… Keep going.”  
Aziraphale smiles and continues. Crowley feels his baby moving inside him. Typical. Every time he settles down, the baby starts to move. His hand moves over the stretched skin of his belly. Aziraphale sees the movement.  
“Is it moving?”  
“Yes…” Crowley reaches behind him. He grabs one of Aziraphale’s hands and pulls it onto his belly.  
“There… it’s kicking,” he says. Aziraphale sits still. He feels a little limb under his palm, a small bump forming and moving.  
“What is this?”  
“A foot. It hurts, when it’s kicking against my ribs.”  
“So it’s in the right birthing position.”  
“Yeah. It has turned a few weeks ago.”  
“Are you scared?”

Crowley turns now to look at the angel.  
“Kiss me?” he asks, to avoid answering. Aziraphale sighs but complies. He bends over Crowley, and their lips meet for a soft, loving kiss. Crowley throws an arm around Aziraphale’s neck and pulls him closer.  
“Can you massage my front, too?”, he murmurs into the kisses, that get more heated by the minute. Aziraphale sighs.  
“We… we shouldn’t do that. Not this close to your due date… Semen can induce labour…” Aziraphale gasps.  
“But I need you, angel…”  
Crowley feels himself getting hot. He may have started this to avoid a conversation about his fears, but now he realizes how much he wants Aziraphale right now. 

Aziraphale reaches up to undo his bow tie and open the first buttons of his shirt.  
“You tempter. Wily old serpent…” he smiles, because he knows how much Crowley likes it when he teases him like this.  
“I can’t tempt you looking like this. I look like a stranded whale.”  
“You don’t. You are so beautiful.”  
Aziraphale starts to let his hands roam over Crowley’s heavily pregnant belly and to plant butterfly kisses all over the pale mound until Crowley stops him with a moan and a hand on his shoulder. With a painful groan he pushes himself up and takes a few breaths.  
“Sorry. Can’t lie on my back anymore. Too much pressure on my organs, causes nausea. Just give me a moment.”  
Aziraphale helps him up. Crowley sighs. “Sorry… I really want this. But…” He looks at his belly. 

“Don’t be sorry. I have an idea. And I promise you will love it.”  
“Will I?” Crowley is still taking deep breaths, eyes closed for the moment, but the nausea is already subsiding. When he opens his eyes again, the sight of a naked angel makes him grin.  
“Oh. What a nice surprise.”  
“Take these off, my dearest.” Aziraphale reaches for Crowley’s pyjama bottoms. The demon rarely wears anything other than pj bottoms, oversized t-shirts and comfy cardigans or dressing gowns. He hasn’t left the house for weeks except from his visits to his garden. Aziraphale has taken to order their groceries and everything they need via phone and have it be delivered to their cottage. Crowley shimmies out of the pj bottoms and his pants. 

“Lie back down on your side,” instructs Aziraphale and helps Crowley arrange himself on their bed. Aziraphale kneels beside him, looks at him. Crowley blushes.  
“What are you looking at?” he asks, feeling a little uncomfortable.  
“You are so beautiful…”, whispers Aziraphale.  
Crowley swallows. “I know I’m not at the moment, but I appreciate the thought.”  
“But you are! If you could see me like I do. You have always been beautiful. No matter if you’re a man or a woman, if you’re pregnant or not. I will always find you beautiful and I will love you forever.”  
“What about right now?”, Crowley smiles.  
“Eager, are we?”  
“We haven’t done this in a few weeks.”  
“You constantly complained you were sore and aching.”  
“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t horny.”  
Aziraphale laughs softly. “Well, I’m here now and ready to fulfill your every wish.”  
“Then will you please shut up and put your hands on me now?” Crowley demands with a smile, which Aziraphale returns.  
“Patience, dear. I intend to make this really good for you,” he replies and comes closer. 

Crowley watches, how the angel positions himself. His warm, soft hands gently spread his legs and lift the upper one, bends it at the knee and places the foot onto the mattress.  
“Is this comfortable for you, my dear?” he asks, looking up. Crowley nods and moves a little to make more room for Aziraphale. Aziraphale’s hands are still on his skin, following and guiding him at the same time. Crowley licks his lips, watches Aziraphale bend down now and then finally there is his warm breath on Crowley’s cunt.  
“Hm, you’re quite excited already, my dear…” whispers Aziraphale, before gently kissing his mons and making his way further down, planting kisses onto the soft outer lips. Crowley tries to get a look, but his pregnant belly won’t allow to see much. There is just the hint of the white blond curls of his lover and then the rest of his body: creamy white skin, his soft body down there only to pleasure him… 

Because Crowley can’t see where Aziraphale is headed with his mouth, it comes as a surprise, when Aziraphale’s warm tongue flicks against the sensitive nub of Crowley’s clit, and Crowley gasps.  
“Oh yes, angel…”  
Aziraphale hums, sending vibrations against the heated flesh. Crowley smells delicious, as always. A first gentle lick over the wet inner labia makes Crowley squirm. Aziraphale puts a hand onto his thigh to still him, then it glides onto Crowley’s belly to feel if their child will react to what’s going on. He feels movement under his palm and smiles. Delicate fingers card through his hair to remind him that a horny demon is waiting for him to continue. And so Aziraphale gets to work with determination.

Crowley has to close his eyes. The sensation is mindblowing. The pregnancy has made him even more sensitive, and Aziraphale has already learned so much about what makes Crowley cry out his pleasure. Aziraphale’s lips are closed around his clit, he is gently suckling and flicking his tongue against this sensitive spot, while one of his fingers caresses Crowley’s inner labia and spreads the wetness that is developing there. He alternates between Crowley’s clit and his labia, teasing his entrance and making Crowley swear and squirm beneath him. Doing this for Crowley is one of Aziraphale’s great pleasures. 

Crowley is teetering on the edge of his orgasm, but Aziraphale knows how to make exactly this feeling last. He knows how much Crowley enjoys a little edging. The demon is panting and trembling. His hands scrabble for something to hold on and grip the sheets.  
“Angel…” he moans, “Please! Need to come! Let me come!” But he knows that Aziraphale will try to keep him on edge for a litte longer, and Crowley absolutely loves it. But that doesn’t stop him from begging. He can be a real slut in bed…  
“Don’t be cruel! I need to come! Please, angel, make me! Make me come!” He nearly sobs.  
And finally Aziraphale has mercy. He slides two fingers into Crowley, and the demon cries out in pleasure. Aziraphale finds his sensitive spot and curls his fingers against it, circling the spongy area and gives a few harder sucks to Crowley’s clit. Crowley cries out. His warm, wet inner walls clench and spasm around Aziraphale’s moving fingers, his whole body seizes, and he tries to fuck himself on Aziraphale’s fingers. 

Aziraphale knows Crowley can come again within minutes if he does it right. He keeps his fingers inside and moves his tongue down to lick the inner labia, the sensation of his own fingers buried deep inside Crowley’s body is intoxicating. He tastes so good, Aziraphale savors every second and licks up the juices, before returning to Crowley’s clit. He gives only gentle caresses to it with the tip of his tongue, circling it, and Crowley trembles.  
“Angel… need you. Please, need you inside…”  
Aziraphale hesitates. As much as he wants to fuck Crowley, he doesn’t want him to go into early labour.  
“We shouldn’t, my love. I told you, that -”  
“You can pull out before you come. But for the love of someone!” Crowley pushes himself up on his elbows and glares at him. “I need you to fuck me.”  
Aziraphale swallows. His cock has been leaking copiously, leaving a wet spot on the sheets. He bites his lip.  
“Oh you… you always do that to me…” he groans.  
“Do what? Make you question your decisions?” Crowley smiles.  
“Tempt me.”  
“That’s my job description. Will you please put your cock in me right now?”

Aziraphale is behind him without hesitation. He hands Crowley a few pillows.  
“Support your upper leg, darling,” he instructs. Crowley hastily obeys and sighs, when he can rest his upper thigh on the pillows. He feels Aziraphale move closer, searching for the right position. But then finally there is the warm, wet head of his cock dragging through the wetness of Crowley’s cunt.  
“Tell me if something hurts of feels off. Promise me, or I won’t do this.”  
“Swear! Swear to whomever you want! Just fuck me!”  
And with a single slow thrust of his hips Aziraphale slides into him. 

“Yes… oh yes, angel… so good… please move…”  
Aziraphale sets a gentle pace. He is very on edge, too. As much as he wants to go hard and fast, he knows he shouldn’t. His discipline, formed throughout the millennia, helps him keep his orgasm at bay - but only barely. He takes deep, calming breaths. But the sounds Crowley is making are so wonderful, so arousing, that he is very close to loosing it. He reaches around, finds Crowley’s clit, and the demon makes an undescribable sound. Aziraphale gently circles his throbbing clit, moves his hips in a steady rhythm.

“Oh Crowley, my dearest, you feel so good… can you come again? For me?” he asks breathlessly. Crowley is already close.  
“A little faster, angel… just a little… oh yes, like that! Angel!” It’s only a few more moments, until Crowley comes a second time. His vaginal walls grip Aziraphale’s cock like a vice. Aziraphale barely moves, desperately trying not to come, letting Crowley ride out his powerful orgasm. Finally Crowley goes completely boneless. Aziraphale is reluctant to pull out but knows it’s the only reasonable thing to do. With a groan he let’s his cock slip out of Crowley’s body, and the demon wails. 

“No! Don’t! Put it back in!”  
“Shh… I intend to. But not in there.” Aziraphale moves up to the top of the bed. Crowley moans when he gets what Aziraphale is implying.  
“Oh yes, angel… Give it to me…” He eagerly pushes himself up, and Aziraphale helps him. It will be easiest for Crowley, if he sits up. He scoots to the edge of the mattress and lowers his spread legs until his feet hit the floor. Aziraphale stands up and takes his place between Crowley’s spread thighs. Their eyes meet, and Crowley smiles.  
“I’m all yours, angel…” he whispers, then opens his mouth.  
A shiver runs down Aziraphale’s spine. Crowley’s hands land on his buttocks and pull him closer. 

Crowley has a clever tongue. He can do very weird things with it. And he likes to show off. He starts with a simple lick from the base to the tip of Aziraphale’s cock. He can taste his own slick and makes a show of it, when he tries to lick every last bit of it off Aziraphale’s hard cock. It doesn’t even take a real miracle for him to extend his tongue and split it. Aziraphale can’t take his eyes off Crowley. His forked tongue curls around Aziraphale’s penis and collects the moisture of his precum. Aziraphale is already panting. His hands curl into fists by his sides. Crowley tries to smile, when he takes one of Aziraphale’s hands and puts it onto his head. Aziraphale’s cock jerks and pulses, when he grabs a handful of Crowley’s long hair and gives it a gentle pull. Crowley moans shamelessly and therefore gives Aziraphale permission to do as he pleases. He opens his lips now and swallows Aziraphale’s cock to the root. As a snake he has no gag reflex. His hands on Aziraphale’s buttocks squeeze the two plump muscles and encourage Aziraphale to just take what he needs. 

“Oh god, Crowley, you gorgeous beast…” moans the angel and starts to move his hips. Crowley just relaxes his throat and let’s Aziraphale fuck his mouth. He enjoys this just as much as Aziraphale does who still can’t take his eyes off the sight of Crowley, his mouth stuffed full of cock - and enjoying himself immensely. A bead of sweat rolls down Aziraphale’s temple. His hand is grabbing Crowley’s hair a little tighter, his hips move a little faster, and his cock pushes a little bit deeper into Crowley’s willing mouth. Crowley’s fingernails dig into Aziraphale’s buttocks, he hums around Aziraphale’s cock. The vibration is Aziraphale’s undoing. He feels his balls pull tight to his body before he comes and pumps his seed into Crowley’s waiting mouth. Crowley swallows eagerly, licking and sucking as much as he can. When Aziraphale tries to pull out, Crowley doesn’t let him. He waits until Aziraphale is soft again before he let’s the cock slip out of his mouth. He licks his lips, looking up at him. Aziraphale sinks to his knees. He cups Crowley’s face with both hands and kisses him deeply, searching for his own taste in Crowley’s clever mouth. When their lips part, he starts to laugh. 

“Well - that was nothing but amazing,” he says, “I just hope our little one will not think badly of us. I am not sure if parents to be should behave like we just did.”  
“We’re not only parents to be. We’re still a couple. And I really hope we will still find enough time for such a behaviour. Because I definitely don’t want to stop any of this.”  
“Me neither. I love you so much, dear boy… so much…”  
“Love you, too.” smiles Crowley. He lifts one of Aziraphale’s hands and kisses it, then puts it on his belly.  
“The little one has fallen asleep. Strange.”  
“Hm… Maybe you can nap a little more. I know how little sleep you get during the night.”  
“Maybe,” Crowley admits. “Come lie down with me, angel.”  
Aziraphale is happy to oblige. They crawl beneath their duvet, and Aziraphale pulls Crowley into his arms, the demon’s back against his warm belly. Crowley sighs.  
“Oh, that feels good. Your warmth feels nice to my back.”  
“What ever you need, my darling.” Aziraphale kisses Crowley’s neck and shoulders and waits for him to fall asleep. 

The next evening Crowley slowly walks around the house, deep in thought. He dreads the end of the night. But he has to tell Aziraphale what he has been thinking about for so many weeks now. Something Aziraphale will definitely not like. At all. He decides to wait until after dinner. He has no real appetite, leaves a not so small amount of his food on his plate. After Aziraphale has done the washing up, he finds Crowley pacing in the living room. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, knowing that something is not right.  
“I… have to talk to you,” Crowley says.  
Azriaphale nods. He comes closer and stops next to the fireplace. Crowley sighs, stops, too, but stays a few steps away from Aziraphale. The angel looks anxious.  
“Well?” he manages to ask, trying to read his face. 

“I can feel it. The baby has dropped significantly. I am due very soon.”  
“Oh… then we should prepare, shouldn’t we? Is there anything I can do?” Aziraphale wrings his hands in front of his body.  
“In fact there is something…” Crowley runs his hands over his baby bump and feels the motion beneath his palms. His pulse is racing. He has no clue how to put this without hurting the angel.  
“What is it? Tell me. What ever it is, I’ll do it.”  
Crowley takes a deep breath. Then he says: “I want to go back to London for the birth.“  
Aziraphale sighs with relief. „Oh thank god. If something happens, at least we have all the help you might need.“  
„No help,“ says Crowley. He knows Aziraphale won’t like what Crowley is about to say. „And there’s something more I have to tell you. I am going to give birth on my own. Alone. At my flat.”

Aziraphale literally takes a step back. “What? Are you out of your mind?”  
“It’s the only thing I can do. It’s all I’ve been thinking about in the last days. I can feel it. It’s close to being born. But we still have no clue what it is that is growing inside of me! I can’t go to a hospital and deliver a demon baby, can I? From all we know it could be everything! It could even be a snake!”  
Aziraphale flinches. “Don’t say things like that,” he begs, sounding terribly hurt.  
“But it’s true! It is true, angel! There is no one I could trust to be with me during birth! Not a single soul!”  
“Not even me?! I am responsible for what happened! And I can’t leave you alone at your most vulnerable!”  
“You can and you will!” 

Crowley knows he is being unreasonable. But he truly is terrified. Neither of them had been able to tell what kind of baby he is expecting. And there is a reason he wants to be alone for the birth. But he can’t tell Aziraphale. It would break him. He would be disgusted and he would leave him. But if the worst happens, then he will anyway… 

“But you can’t do this alone! What if something bad happens and you can’t even call for help?” Aziraphale tries to be reasonable. He is so concerned for Crowley’s well being.  
“Than maybe that’s fate.”  
“No. We… we could ask Anathema. You know her. We trust her. She knows what we are. She could help -”  
“Angel, no! You know Anathema, she is not much more but a girl! She can’t help me with anything!”  
“There must be something, Crowley! You can’t expect me to just wait it out while you give birth all on your own! How am I supposed to manage that? It will drive me mad if I don’t know what’s happening to you!”  
“I can’t and I won’t have you there with me!” Crowley yells now. He gasps, when he feels a sudden shift inside him and tries desperately to hide his discomfort.  
“Why? Just give me one reason, Crowley!”  
“Just like I said, we have no clue what it is inside me! Maybe it isn’t even able to live! Maybe it’s an abomination! And if it is…”

Aziraphale freezes. He starts to shake. “W-what? What do you mean, Crowley? An abomination?” he asks, merely more than a whisper. Crowley feels his eyes prickling. He hadn’t intended to say this. He had wanted to handle such a situation on his own. But now he has given himself away. Crowley runs his fingers through his hair. He’s not sure if he has the strength to explain himself. 

“I think you know what I mean. We can’t risk that.”  
“Crowley, you are talking about our child,” Aziraphale reminds him.  
“Do you think I have forgotten, that this is our child? You put it in me! It’s been growing inside me for the last nine months! I can feel it moving. Constantly! But if it is what I fear it might be, then…”  
“You can’t be serious. You love children. You would never be able to kill a child.”  
Crowley goes very still. Then he whispers: “I already have.” He turns around and hugs himself, shivering. 

Aziraphale stands there and stares at Crowley’s back. He can see his shoulders moving and hears the quiet sobs he tries to suppress. He desperately wants to comfort him, but he can’t bring himself to go over to him. It takes him a moment, until he demands: “Tell me.”  
Nothing more. But it’s clear what he means. 

Crowley can feel Aziraphale’s gaze. And he knows what the angel is thinking right now. That Crowley is just the same: an abomination. And he is right. He might have tried to do everything in his power to save children. Has taken care of many. But it’s also true, that he has killed a child. Many years ago. But he can still see her face in his dreams. He wipes the tears from his face, struggling to regain his composure. He will tell Aziraphale. But he can’t look at him now. Maybe he never can after this…

“She was young. Eleven or twelve years old.” He is surprised how calm his voice sounds…  
“It was in Africa. I don’t even remember this fucking little country and it’s fucking little civil war. Fact is… I was there. I found her one evening… in a skip. Someone had thrown her away like… like an old rag.” Crowley stares into nothing. If he closed is eyes now, he would see her again. He would hear her again. Her ragged breathing and her whimpers. 

“I am no healer. I have no healing powers. And she was already so weak… She was in so much pain, and she was bleeding to death. You should have seen her eyes…” He swallows hard.  
“She looked up at me. Terrified. And she was so small… There were so many wounds, there was so much blood…”  
Aziraphale clutches a hand over his mouth to choke the horrified sounds he’s afraid will escape him.  
“There was nothing I could do for her. So I… made it quick. Snapped her neck.”

There is a deafening silence stretching between them. Neither is able to say a word. Tears are running down Aziraphale’s face. Finally he is able to say: “I am sorry.”  
“I will never forget her little face…” Crowley breathes, then starts sobbing again. He thinks about the girl. But he also thinks about his own child, that is still inside him. The child he desperately wants to love but doesn’t dare to - not until he knows what it is. Because if the worst happens… he knows Aziraphale would not be able to end it. So he has to be strong. For them both. Only he fears it will break him, if he has to do this… 

“Crowley… let’s talk about this. I won’t let you go through all of this on your own. If you expect me to do that, you really are a fool.”  
“I expect you to, and you will. We’re not discussing this,” Crowley hisses. Aziraphale, who had wanted to go over, hug him and comfort him, feels like he is slapped in the face. He sees, how Crowley wipes his face, before he turns to face him.  
“I have made a decision. A final decision. Whether you like it or not.”  
“Whether I like it - Crowley, this is my child, too!” Aziraphale is shocked.  
“Believe me, I am very aware of it! You won’t change my mind, we don’t need to talk any more about this subject!”

Aziraphale tries to calm down. Crowley’s words hurt immensely. And he is terrified. For Crowley, for their child, for himself. But he knows: there is nothing he can say to make things easier or to change Crowley’s mind. The demon can be as stubborn and determined as he is. Aziraphale can only make it worse if he doesn’t give in.  
“Fine. I will respect your wish. But I will come to London with you. There’s no need to stay here without you. When do you want to go back to London?”  
“Tomorrow morning. I… I have already packed a few things.”  
Aziraphale nods.  
“I should pack then, too.” He leaves the living room without another word. 

Crowley groans. He walks over to the sofa and sits down, rubbing his belly. This situation was terribly painful and exhausting. Crowley hates how tired and weak he feels every hour of the day. How human women are able to manage a pregnancy is a miracle to him. And he doesn’t dare thinking about the birth… let alone he has to go through this all on his own. It was his own choice, and he made this decision knowing fully well what he is up to. Nevertheless it frightens him. Some moral support would maybe make it easier. Maybe… He can’t know how he will react once he is in labour. He knows he has hurt Arizaphale, but the angel will understand once he thinks about it. Crowley leans against the back rest and closes his eyes for the moment. Damn, if he only wasn’t this tired…

Aziraphale wipes tears from his cheeks while he gathers his things and lines everything up on the bed before he’s going to pack his suitcase. He has managed to fight the tears for as long as he had been talking to Crowley, but they had started to escape his eyes on his way up the stairs. The tears are tears of frustration, disappointment, anger and fear. He can understand some of Crowley’s reasons, but it’s hard to accept them. And some of his reasons are just terribly painful. He tries to shove all his concerns away. To think positive. Crowley will need him after the birth of their child - no matter what happens. And he knows one thing: even if it will break his heart, if something bad happens, he will still love Crowley. Or so he hopes… 

When Crowley goes to bed, Aziraphale stays with him. Crowley is incredibly grateful, when Aziraphale opens his arms for him, and he snuggles close to his warm, soft chest and closes his eyes. They don’t speak a word. Everything has been said already. Crowley wakes and leaves the bed at some point during the night. He walks around in the cottage in the dark, his joints aching. Aziraphale offers another back rub, but Crowley declines. He can sleep for another few hours, but wakes long before dawn. After a quick breakfast Aziraphale brings their luggage outside and stores everything in the Bentley. A last quick walk through the cottage - nothing forgotten. Aziraphale takes one look out into the garden. He will miss the cottage and hopes they can come back some time. When he locks the door behind him, Crowley heaves himself into the drivers seat. Not much of his usual careless grace is left. When he gets into the car, Crowley immediately starts the engine. Aziraphale casts him a concerned look. 

„Are you sure you can drive all the way back to London?“  
„Of course I can.“  
„But you are in constant discomfort. I have heard you complaining a lot. Your back, your feet, your hips. You know I can drive a car.”  
“Nobody but me drives this car. It’s nothing personal, angel.”  
“But you tell me, if you need a break, promise.”  
Crowley sighs, but nods, before he drives off toward London.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big day has come - the baby's coming. 
> 
> cw - graphic description of birth in this chapter!

They wait for a few days, and it’s torture. Crowley asks Aziraphale to buy some last supplies he will need for the birth and afterwards, and Aziraphale complies willingly. Apart from that, he stays at Crowley’s flat with him. But he knows Crowley is likely to send him away any minute now. Crowley is impatient, sometimes rude, sometimes clingy. It’s hard for Aziraphale not to be able to comfort him like he wants to. Crowley’s moods change constantly. Even Aziraphale’s patience is put to the test. He manages to stay calm, but only barely. The whole situation, his concerns for Crowley’s well being and the well being of their child is taking it’s toll. On the third evening back in London Crowley says the words Aziraphale dreaded the most during the last days. 

“I think it’s time you stayed at yours from today on,” says Crowley with a sick feeling in his stomach. He fears Aziraphale’s reaction. But the angel just nods.  
“If this is still what you wish, then I will.”  
“I don’t want to hurt you. Please believe me.”  
“No, it’s fine. You explained it to me. I get it. But I want you to call me daily. Please, Crowley, do this for me. I would never forgive myself if you needed me and I wasn’t there.”  
“Don’t worry too much. I will be fine.”  
“I wish I could do more…”  
“You have already done so much for me.”  
Aziraphale wants to say more, but he doesn’t want to make this even more difficult and painful as it already is. They kiss and hug before Aziraphale leaves for his bookshop and his flat. And suddenly for the first time in months Crowley is alone. He wraps his dressing gown tighter around himself. It’s only a few minutes, and he already feels alone. But he knows he has made the right decision. Now all he can do is wait.

Crowley has the great advantage that he is not entirely human. Therefore he has much more strength than a human woman. And he has endured pain before. His fall had been one of the most painful experiences in his existence. That and… some unpleasant encounters in hell. But this is different. 

He wakes up very early the next morning from a constant pain in his lower back. He can’t lie in bed any longer and gets up with a long groan, still tired and miserable. He misses Aziraphale terribly, but he has made his choice. He can’t take it back. For his and Aziraphale’s sake. A hot shower melts away some of the tension in his back, but he is still aching. Although he’s not hungry, he makes himself some toast anyway. He calls Aziraphale to tell him he’s fine. The concern in the angel’s voice is obvious. But he doesn’t try to convince Crowley to change his mind. 

The pain in Crowley’s back doesn’t go away. In fact it gets more intense, and finally he can’t ignore it anymore, when the pain starts to intensify in intervals. Contractions. He is in labour. The thought scares him, and he fights against a panic attack. Even though he knows what’s waiting for him, he has no idea how he will react to it and how long it will take. Only thing he knows is, that it can take many hours until things get serious. What is he supposed to do until then? 

He tries watching the telly. And can’t concentrate. He tries reading. Even worse. Music seems to distract him, but whenever another contraction hits him, he finds it harder and harder to relax afterwards. Sitting is uncomfortable, but so is lying. Walking seems to ease some of his discomfort. And so he starts wandering through his flat, taking round after round. 

At one point Crowley fills the bathtub and stays in the warm water for a long time, occasionally adding hot water. He keeps track of the contractions. But for more than an hour nothing seems to really happen or progress. He is just in constant pain. Getting out of the tub is a little tricky, but he manages. He decides to put on nothing more but t-shirt. Everything else seems to be constricting, which he can’t stand at this point, and he is already sweating from what’s happening to him.

After his bath he starts to walk again. The contractions are getting more and more painful now, the time between them shortens. With each contraction he has to stop walking and supports himself on every piece of furniture that is in grabbing distance. Or the walls. He groans in pain, rubs his aching back and his belly. It has dropped even lower. He can feel his child shift and turn inside him. 

Crowley has watched countless videos and read many descriptions of home births. He knows what’s in store for him. But being confronted with the truth is something else entirely. After many hours of labor even he starts to feel tired and exhausted. The contractions are now only a few minutes apart. He should get ready. It won’t take much longer now. Oh how he wishes Aziraphale was here… But he knows how his angel would make a great fuss, would worry about him, would make him want to crawl out of skin. No. It’s better this way. He has made the right decision. He can do this. He can. He will. He has no other choice now anyway. 

His waters break, when Crowley is - thankfully - in the kitchen. The most powerful contraction so far makes him cry out. He grips the back of one chair with both hands, the pressure is increasing further and further. And suddenly warm liquid runs down his thighs and pools around his bare feet. Crowley gasps for breath, but the contraction is still not over, and it hurts. Damn, it hurts! And more than just minutes before! His knuckles turn white, while he struggles to keep breathing through the pain and decides that maybe now he should go to his bedroom. Everything he will need is prepared there. Finally the contraction ends. He takes a deep shuddering breath. How do human women endure this, he asks himself. He takes off his shirt, throws it into the puddle of amniotic fluid on the floor to soak up the worst mess and makes his way to his bedroom, leaving a trail of wet footsteps on his way. 

They baby’s head has dropped even more and presses on his cervix, Crowley can feel it. The pain is different now that his waters are gone. It can’t be much longer now. And he can no longer walk. The pressure on his vagina and rectum during the contractions is really painful. He has read that gravity might help during the process of giving birth, so he decides not to lie down. But he can’t sit, it’s too uncomfortable. There are blankets and towels already spread out on the bed and around it (he silently praises himself for his foresight), and Crowley decides to kneel down. He supports himself on the mattress with both arms, but stays mostly upright. 

The contractions come one after the other now. He doesn’t care about pride or dignity anymore. He groans and whimpers with the power of his contractions. Again he feels the baby shift, and the pressure increases even more. His body is drenched in sweat. He is glad he is already naked. He struggles to breathe enough but feels the baby enter his birth canal and retreat again, when the contraction ends. He is close to crying now. How long will this take? He feels lonely, he is frightened and he is tired. 

When he feels the urge to push for the first time, he cries out and instinctively reaches between his spread thighs. And feels the bulge of the baby’s head spreading him. He flinches. Is this supposed to feel like this? But he can’t think much more about it, because the next contraction grips him with a force, that is new. He would try to pray. But to whom? Besides - nobody would listen. Instead he tries to focus and gathers his strength. He pushes down, once again reaching between his legs. The bulge gets bigger and then he can feel it. A head. Hair. Somebody, please help him! He feels like he is split in two, and for a moment he is on the cusp of a panic. What, if it doesn’t fit? What if it is too big? Where is his phone? He can’t remember. And he wouldn’t even be able to call Aziraphale at the moment. 

Another wave of pain. He pushes. He screams. He doesn’t even notice. The pressure increases to a whole new level. He feels stretched impossibly wide and it hurts so much! But then he feels it: the head is out. His mind goes blank, when his searching fingertips find a forehead, closed eyes, a nose and mouth. With trembling fingers he checks for the umbilical cord, finds nothing. Should be fine then. And he knows: it’s almost done. He gathers all his remaining strength. His shoulders and head rest on the mattress while he has his hands between his legs. He waits for the next contraction and with a scream gives another mighty push. 

And then he catches the baby in his trembling hands, followed by a gush of amniotic fluid. The little body is slick, the little limbs are flailing. Crowley doesn’t know what to do. He sinks onto his haunches, lifts the baby, sees it moving - but is it breathing? He is still connected with it through the umbilical cord. But that can’t work anymore now the baby is born. He carefully lifts the newborn and looks at it. Shouldn’t it cry by now? But just when he says: “You have to breathe, little one!” he feels the baby’s chest expand. It takes a deep breath, and then it makes its first cry. Only then Crowley realizes: he has done it. He has given birth to his child, and it’s crying and it’s alive and it’s breathing and its heart is beating. 

He takes a few quick deep breaths, before he has gathered himself enough to finally really look at her for the first time. At her - he realizes, and he is so surprised it’s ridiculous. Of course the baby should have a gender. And he is glad she has one. And it’s without a doubt a girl. But Crowley is still shaking - not only from exhaustion but also from anxiety. He has to take a closer look. Try to find out what she is. And if she is okay. He reaches for his silk pyjama bottoms that lie forgotten on the end of the bed since the morning and gently starts to wipe all the fluids and mucus from her skin. 

Her skin is rosy, perfect and smooth, dotted with a collection of a handful of very tiny dark marks. Are these scales? A shiver runs down his spine. He lifts her up and places her on his bed, inspects the marks, but they don’t seem to be scales. He touches one with his fingertip, they feel very different from his own scales. So that seems to be okay. He counts her fingers (ten, each of them with perfect tiny fingernails) and her toes (also ten, also with perfect nails on them). For a second he remembers the voice of Sister Mary Loquacious and her blabbering about “little toesy-wosies” and “teensy-weensy little hoofikins”. But not on this little child, that is still crying. She seems to be in perfect shape. The hair on her head might be red. It’s a little hard to tell, because it’s still wet. He carefully turns her around and touches her back. Nothing out of the ordinary. No bumps that would suggest there were maybe wings hidden underneath. Or something else. So he turns her back and finally takes her up in his arms. He turns around and sinks down, his back against the mattress, and holds her close in the crook of his arm. They are still connected through the umbilical cord. 

“You seem to be fine, little one. And maybe you are hungry?” he asks. As he is already naked, why not try if she wants to nurse? He adjusts her a little and lifts her up, until she can reach the nipple of his left breast. As if she had done it a hundred times before, she latches onto the nipple and begins to suckle. Crowley gasps. What a strange feeling! His whole body seems to react to her nursing. He feels a tingling sensation spread through his body. A dull ache in his lower abdomen caused by the nursing reminds him: the birth is not over yet. He has to deliver the placenta, too. But right now all he can do is look at the tiny being that he is holding against his chest. And while he watches her nurse, she suddenly opens her eyes. 

Crowley’s heart skips a beat. She seems to look at him. And every last doubt he still has is immediately turned down. Her eyes are a wonderful baby blue, the pupils perfect circles. And her eyelashes, he can clearly see it now, are red. Finally a smile spreads over his face. She is just a little girl. No wings, no serpent eyes. The dark marks - well, most probably just birthmarks, he will see to that later. But in this moment his relief is tremendous. She is a normal baby. And he feels the first wave of a love so primal and deep grip him, that he nearly chokes on it, and his eyes fill with tears. Crowley wipes with his right hand at the tears that are starting to run down his cheeks and blinks. Because he has to see this. He has to watch her. This tiny, perfect baby he brought into the world. His daughter. His and Aziraphale’s daughter.

Aziraphale! He should call him as soon as he can. Tell him they were both fine. Only right now there is this little child in his arms, still nursing, eyes closed again, and he feels like he and his daughter are the only thing in the whole universe that matter. He can’t take his eyes of her. He has made this. He has made this little miracle. He gently touches her small fists, her arms, her body, her legs and her tiny toes. He smiles through his tears. How can something this small be this perfect and amazing?

When the baby finally let’s go off Crowley’s nipple, he lifts her and very gently rubs her back. Her little burp makes him smile. This should feel ridiculous, but instead he feels relieved and happy. He lays her down next to him, and because he has nothing else at hand, he covers her as best as he can with his sodden pyjama bottoms. Because he can feel it, he has to expel the placenta. And then cut the umbilical cord. Clean her properly. Dress her in a nappy and a onesie. And afterwards he should clean himself as well. Each task sounds easy. But all together it’s a little much, and for now he concentrates on the last part of the birth.

Expelling the placenta is unpleasant and messy. But after it’s done, he can finally slowly get up and look for the supplies he had prepared and that are waiting for him lined up on a chest of drawers. First the umbilical cord. He ties some strings around the cord and cuts in between them, making sure with a minor miracle that everything is sterile. And with this act she is really her own person. But she is totally dependent on him. And he has to clean and dress her before she gets cold. 

Crowley fetches one of his softest towels and carefully wraps her in it before he carries her to the bathroom. She has calmed down now, but is not asleep. He decides to first take care of her. For a second he thinks about trying to miracle her clean, but decides against it. She will like the attention and his touch. Touch is important for babies, isn’t it? So he will do this the human way. He fills the sink with warm water and fetches a flannel. 

It must look ridiculous, but Crowley doesn’t care in the slightest. The baby lies on the floor in her towel, he kneels in front of the sink and tenderly cleans her as best as he can. There are still fluids running down his thighs, but he tries to ignore it for the moment. When she is as clean as he can manage right now, he gently dries her and carries her back into the bedroom. Now he is really glad he has bought nappies and some clothes. He fiddles with the nappy and the onesie and feels clumsy and stupid. It shouldn’t be that difficult to dress a baby. But it is. 

Finally he is satisfied with his work and turns to put her in the bassinet next to his bed. He had feared he wouldn’t need it. But now he puts her down and stays for solid eight minutes and watches her fall asleep, before he goes back to the bathroom to take a very quick shower and get dressed in a pyjama and a dressing gown, a sanitary towel in his underwear. He looks at the mess in his bedroom and decides to ignore it for the moment. Instead he lifts the sleeping baby out of the bassinet and takes her with him to the living room. 

He is glad he has already miracled his stylish leather sofa into a much more cosy one with many pillows and soft blankets. The baby doesn’t wake up, when he carefully settles on the sofa. He lies her onto his chest, both his hands on her back to hold her safe. He looks at her and still can’t believe that it’s done. He has a child. He has a daughter. A little, beautiful daughter. Again he starts to cry, not even realizing that tears are running down his cheeks. What a wonder this is! She looks so peaceful. She has no care in the world, knows nothing about heaven or hell and what trouble their parents went through to save this world she entered not even an hour ago. 

Crowley touches his fingertips to the thin tuft of hair on the baby’s head. Not exactly red, but time will tell. Does her little mouth look like Aziraphale’s? What will her nose look like when she grows older? Will she be smart? Will she be as gentle and loving as her father? Has she inherited Crowley’s temper? There are so many possibilities for this beautiful child. Once again he thinks about Aziraphale. And that he should call him. But not now. He wants to be selfish and just concentrate on the baby, on the bond between him and her. The strongest bond one can imagine. Mother and child. Crowley can’t help but chuckle at the thought: he is a mother now. Whow… what a strange, strange world…


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for Aziraphale to meet his daughter!

The mobile in his coat pocket rings, and the same moment Aziraphale doesn’t care anymore about the customer he is currently talking to. When he fishes the mobile out of his pocket and looks at the screen, his heart starts to race. Finally! He had expected Crowley to call him in the morning, just like yesterday. It’s already past noon, and he has started to worry. But he hadn’t dared to call him, not wanting to break the arrangement they had made. He takes the call and rushes into a far away corner of the bookshop. 

“Crowley! Are you alright?”  
Crowley sighs and chuckles and the angel feels immediate relief.  
“Hello, angel. Yes, I’m alright.” There is a small pause, until he says: “_We_ are alright.” 

It takes a moment for Aziraphale to register, but finally the information sinks in. Crowley is fine - and he has given birth. Their baby is born! Aziraphale feels an enormous relief, and excitement bubbles up in him. 

“Oh!” he exclaims. “Oh my god! It has happened! When? How? How are you feeling? Did everything go well? Do you need anything? Shall I get you something to eat? To drink? Anything?”  
“Angel. Angel - stop!” Crowley laughs now, as he interrupts, “You’re babbling. As I was just about to tell you, everything is fine. We’re doing good. But… actually, I really think you should come over.”  
“Of course! I’ll be there in 30. I’ll grab a few things. Take a cab. And then I’ll be there as fast as I can.”  
There is another pause, then Crowley says: “You could get here much faster than taking a cab.”  
Aziraphale takes a deep breath. “Yes, I could. But… I’m so excited! I have to calm down a moment, before I see you. Both. Oh my god… this… this changes everything.”  
“It already has. Then… take your time. We’ll be here waiting for you. Use your key, will you. You don’t have to ring or knock. Just come in.”

“I missed you so much, Crowley…” admits Aziraphale and closes his eyes for a moment. His hand clutches the phone in a very tight grip.  
“I missed you, too. But it’s only half an hour until you’re here. With us.”  
“Okay. Let me just close the shop. See you, my darling.”  
“Alright.” Crowley ends the call. 

Aziraphale puts the mobile away and goes back into the front part of his shop.  
“I am so sorry, sir, but an urgent family matter has occured. I will have to close the shop again for a few days. Thank you for your visit.” Aziraphale all but shoves the surprised customer out of the door and locks up behind him. He miracles the sign back into the window: “Closed until further notice” and hurries out the back door and up the stairs. 

It’s 33 minutes later that Aziraphale stands in front of Crowleys flat and fumbles with the lock and key. He needs two attempts, because his hands are shaking. But then he can unlock the door and enters Crowley’s flat. He’s been here before plenty of times now and knows the flat like his own. He locks the door behind him and puts the small travel bag he has brought into a corner. When he turns around, Crowley is already on his way to him. He has heard the key being turned it the lock.

“Darling!” Aziraphale takes him in his arms and hugs him tight.  
“Oh my darling, I’m so glad!”  
“Me too…” admits Crowley, and his fingers dig deep into Aziraphale’s back. They stay like this for a moment, until Aziraphale loosens his grip, kisses Crowley on the mouth and then retreats from their embrace. He cups Crowley’s cheek in his palm. 

“Oh my dearest, you look so tired! Are you really alright?”  
“Yes, I’m fine. This is how one looks the day after one gave birth, I suppose.”  
“So it happened yesterday already? Why didn’t you call me?” Aziraphale is concerned and a little disappointed.  
“I was exhausted, angel. And I… I had to get used to it. At least for a couple of hours.” Crowley feels uneasy. He shouldn’t feel the need to explain himself. They had talked about it at length. But of course he understands how cut out Aziraphale must have felt. 

“I’m sorry, my dear. You’re right. I was just so worried about you and the little one,” Aziraphale says and feels ashamed.  
“Speaking of which… You should meet someone.” Crowley starts to smile now, and his face brightens. Aziraphale nods, when Crowley takes him by the hand and pulls him towards his bedroom. He pushes the door open. 

Aziraphale knows the bedroom well. The sheets on the kingsize bed are rumpled, but clean. A small lamp is bathing the room in a dim light. Right next to the bed stands a bassinet. Aziraphale freezes. Crowley, who is one step ahead, turns to him.  
“Don’t be afraid. Everything’s fine. She’s sleeping.”

Aziraphale stares at him with wide eyes. It hasn’t even occurred to him to ask for the baby’s gender. It’s a girl. They have a baby girl. He has a daughter! Tears spring into his eyes, and he tries to blink them away. He has to be able to see his little girl clearly. He wants to remember this moment for the rest of his existence. He let’s himself be pulled further towards the bassinet. When he stands right in front of it he feels like he could explode from all the tension in his body. He looks down to see his newborn daughter for the first time.

She is tiny. She is so tiny, lying on her side curled in on herself. Her tiny fists are lying in front of her face, and - oh isn’t this face just precious? Everything about her is perfect: her little nose, her pursed pink lips, her rosy cheek and there is that adorable reddish tuft of hair on her head. She is dressed in a plain white onesie, a yellow blanket tucked around her. 

“Oh my god…” whispers Aziraphale, and he can’t hold back the tears any longer. They start streaming over his face.  
“Oh my god, she is so beautiful…”  
“She is,” agrees Crowley. He bends over the bassinet and runs the backs of his fingers gently over her cheek. She makes a soft cooing sound, moves one of her hands and then settles down again.  
“Go on, you can touch her,” he says. But Aziraphale still clutches Crowley's hand and is unable to move a muscle. Crowley gently nudges him in the side.  
“Angel, do you hear me? You can touch her. She won’t break.”

Aziraphale shakes his head. “No, I… I don’t want to wake her.”  
“She’s sleeping. Don’t worry. You can do that. I know you want to.”  
But a sudden fear grips Aziraphale. She looks so much like Crowley! She is curled like a little snake, she has his red hair. What if she is like Crowley? What if she is a demon and his touch would in fact hurt her? They can’t know that, can they?  
“I… I…” He doesn’t know what to say, what to do, how to explain himself. He can tell Crowley starts to worry. 

“Angel? Are you alright?”  
“I can’t. Not… not now. I’ll wait. Until she’s awake. I don’t want to disturb her in her sleep.”  
Crowley looks at him and can see the fear on Aziraphale’s face. He has an idea what’s going on in his partner, but decides not to pressure him into something.  
“Okay. Later, then. Let’s go have a cup of tea. I have to monitor my fluid intake.”  
“Yes. Yes, tea is fine. Good idea.”

They leave the bedroom and go into the kitchen. Crowley puts the kettle on. Aziraphale stands awkwardly next to the kitchen table and has no clue what to do now. He watches Crowley prepare two cups of tea. The demon wears a pair of silk pyjamas, warm socks and a dressing gown. One of Aziraphale’s dressing gowns, in fact. There is still a noticeable bump. And he looks tired and worn out. But apart from that he is still the beautiful demon he fell in love with, and Aziraphale can’t understand why he feels so strangely insecure in his presence. What has changed? Of course, his movements show that he is still sore. But apart from all that he looks happy. 

Crowley has prepared the tea and guides Aziraphale back into the sitting room. Where only a few days ago a stylish white leather sofa had taken most of the room in front of one of the walls is now a cosy, dark red sofa with a vast number of pillows and blankets. They settle down on the sofa, but it gives Crowley a hurtful sting, when Aziraphale stays at arms length away from him. 

“Was is very painful?” asks Aziraphale shyly.  
Crowley leans back against the many pillows. “I have to admit it was. I take my hat off to every female being on this planet. Giving birth is hard work. But it’s also true what they say about it: you forget about it as soon as you hold the baby in your arms for the first time. I still can’t believe she’s here. Until I hear her cry.” He smiles.  
“And she is really alright? Did you… did you find something… off?” Aziraphale cringes when he asks, but he has to know.  
“Nothing out of the ordinary. No horns, no slitted pupils, no wings, no tail. Don’t worry. She is a perfect beautiful baby.”  
Aziraphale takes a relieved breath. “Thank god… I was so worried about you two…”  
“Don’t be. But… is something the matter? You look… on edge.”  
“It’s just… I don’t know. Everything has changed for us now. I keep asking myself how life as a family will turn out.”

Crowley feels a sudden rush of fear. Has Aziraphale second thoughts? It’s something entirely different to impatiently wait for the birth of your child and to finally face the hard facts. Yes, their life has changed completely. It’s not only them anymore. No more drunken nights, no more spontaneous visits to The Ritz. They have a responsibility now. They have a baby to care for, 24 hours a day. It will take them some time to get used to this whole new situation. Not to mention what will happen if heaven or hell decide to appear on their doorstep and find out about what has happened… But they knew about all this, didn’t they? 

“It will take us some time to get used to it. But she’s here now. We can’t change that. And I wouldn’t want to change that.”  
“I wouldn’t either, dearest! It’s just… reality now.”  
It’s the same moment they hear the baby crying from the bedroom, and Crowley can’t suppress a smile.  
“Yes. And the reality seems to be hungry. Doesn’t she have a strong voice?” He takes a big swig of his tea, then gets up with a little groan. He leaves the living room and Aziraphale, who sits awkwardly on the new sofa. 

Crowley gently lifts the small bundle out of the bassinet. He touches the child’s cheek and smiles when he sees her turning her head toward his touch. Yes, she is hungry. He has to feed her. Like he has done before he gets on his bed, stuffs some pillows behind his back and puts one onto his lap. He cradles the crying newborn in his left arm and unbuttons his pyjama with his right hand. He pushes the fabric over his left breast aside. Even opening the nursing bra is already much simpler with a little practice.  
“Shh… just a second, little one. There you go…” Crowley whispers and helps the baby to find his nipple. He smiles down at her, when she starts nursing. It still feels so strange, but in a good way. He hums under his breath. No real melody. He never was much of a singer. Even his lullaby for Warlock was not very melodic. But the baby seems to like it, when he hums something. Must remind her of what she heard of his voice when she was still inside his womb. He hears tentative footsteps that stop a few meters away. 

Aziraphale watches him, fascinated and shy from his place by the door. This looks and feels so very, very intimate. He feels like an intruder.  
Just the same moment Crowley looks up and smiles.  
“Come. Sit next to me. I want you to.”  
Aziraphale hesitates.  
“Come on, angel. We don’t bite,” says Crowley and Aziraphale comes over to the bed. He sits down on the mattress and scoots closer. His gaze wanders between Crowley’s face and their child. Crowley’s is smiling, and the soft sound of the baby’s nursing fills Aziraphale’s heart with so much emotion he thinks he could burst. That’s his daughter. His child, safe in the arms of the demon he loves so much. He just sits still and watches in awe. He has never imagined he would ever witness something like this. At some point Crowley switches sides, lets the baby nurse on his other breast. 

When the baby seems to have had enough, Crowley gently lifts her and pats her back, until she has burped. He touches his lips to her cheek.  
“Well done, little one.”  
Aziraphale can’t take his eyes of her. But then a thought comes to his mind: “Does she have a name already?”  
“I wanted to wait for you.”  
“But surely you have given it some thought.”  
“I have. But first of all… you should hold her. She’s your daughter after all.” Crowley turns toward Aziraphale, a reassuring smile on his face. Aziraphale is frightened to take her. She is so tiny, he fears he could break her. As if Crowley could read his mind, he smiles: “You must have held an infant in your time on earth, have you? She won’t break, don’t worry. Just support her head.”

Crowley gently hands the baby over to Aziraphale. Despite his reluctance, the angel cradles her safely in the crook of his left arm, caressing her tiny little fist with his right forefinger.  
“Aren’t you just a wonder, little one…” he whispers, and his eyes fill with tears. She is part of him. Part of him and Crowley, their love shared and combined into the greatest miracle of the world. She yawns, looking like the tiniest little bird. 

Crowley has done up his bra and closed his pyjama again, and now he smiles through his own tears. It’s amazing to see Aziraphale like this. The angel’s fear is disappearing now that he holds his daughter for the first time.  
“So tell me - did you think about a name for her?” Aziraphale asks again.  
“Well, I… I thought about… Zira. Maybe a second name to go with it?”

Aziraphale looks up, eyes wide, astonished, shocked and overwhelmed - but thoughtful, too.  
“My dearest, that is such a lovely thought. And as much as I appreciate your idea… She should have her very own name. Just for her.”  
Crowley gives that a thought. Maybe his angel is right. 

“Do you have any suggestions, then?” Crowley asks.  
Aziraphale looks down at her little, peaceful face. “I… I have thought about… Victoria, maybe? Or Sophie?”  
Crowley grins. “Still stuck in the 19th century, I see. What would you have chosen for a boy, then?”  
Aziraphale chuckles softly while he gently rocks the baby in his arms. “I would have liked George. Or James.”  
“Thank someone we have girl. But… I actually like Victoria.”

Aziraphale beams at him. “You do? Oh Crowley… But what about you? Which name apart from Zira do you like for her? I am pretty sure you have thought about it a lot.”  
Crowley shifts closer now. He rests his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder and looks down at the baby.  
“Lilian.”  
“Oh…” breathes Aziraphale. He touches the baby’s soft, red hair.  
“Her hair has the color of a tiger lily. And I’m sure she will develop freckles when she gets older… It suits her. Lilian Victoria,” he says.  
Crowley feels his heart beat a little faster. Lilian Victoria. That sounds so sweet and wonderful for his sweet and wonderful and precious daughter…  
“Lilian Victoria is perfect, angel.”  
“Perfect name for a perfect baby.” 

Crowley is fast asleep in the bed, curled in on himself. Aziraphale smiles, when he lovingly brushes a strand of red hair out of his face. The demon doesn’t notice. He must be exhausted. He looks like it, but there is also this glow about him Aziraphale has never seen before. He looks over to the bassinet were Lilian is sleeping. He goes over to her, looks down at her and feels the sudden urge to hold her. Using a very little miracle not to wake her, he gently takes her out of the bassinet and goes to sit down with her on the bed next to Crowley. He leans against some of the pillows. Lilian is nestled safely in his arms. He just looks at her in amazement. His daughter. The baby they created without wanting to is now here to be cared for and be loved. And love her he does. Desperately. Her warm weight feels so wonderful in his arms.

Tears are rolling down his cheeks. He had never thought he could love like this. It’s a different love than the one he feels for earth and every living being on it. Of course it’s different. But it’s also different from the love he feels for Crowley. This love is so pure, so simple and so vast… He had no idea one could love like this. He would do everything for Lilian - no hesitation. What ever is best for her, he will do it. He will protect her and care for her for eternity. 

He gently lifts her a little higher and inhales the sweet, milky baby scent, then kisses her softly on the forehead. She coos a little in her sleep. Aziraphale smiles through his tears. Then he starts to whisper to her. He doesn’t want to wake either Lilian nor Crowley. But he has to get this of his chest or he will burst. 

“Welcome to the world, my little one. I’m your papa. And I promise I will always be there for you. Always. Just like your daddy will. We will always take care of you. For all eternity. You are so loved, my little darling. You have no idea how much we love you. Nothing and no one will ever harm you. I promise.” 

He could hold her forever. He knows he will never tire of simply looking at her. Of admiring her perfect beauty. His love will never end. How can one love something so much? It would frighten him, were it not his own baby he feels this love for. His child. He kisses her tenderly on the forehead, inhales her unique baby scent. What an amazing feeling it is to hold his daughter. He stays like this, until Lilian starts to wake up. She snuffles and coos, and this alone makes Crowley stir in his sleep. He opens his eyes to the sight of his angel with their baby in his arms and smiles at him.  
“Hungry again?” he asks, then yawns and rubs his face, before he stretches and sits up. Aziraphale waits, until Crowley has prepared himself to nurse Lilian, then he hands her to him and watches again, how Lilian nurses on Crowley’s breasts. He thinks he will tire of this view… 

“Could you have done it?” Aziraphale asks very quietly in the evening, while Crowley is snuggled against his chest. He has slept for another hour, but now just enjoys the contact and the closeness and the warmth of Aziraphale’s soft body. But had he been relaxed and pliant just seconds before, he now goes rigid.  
“Done what? You mean…” He can’t bring himself to say it. Aziraphale wants to know if he would have been able to kill their child had it in fact been… what ever she could have been but isn’t.

Crowley hesitates. He has asked himself the same question every time he touches or even looks at his little daughter. His heart aches when he thinks about it. And he feels a relief so tremendous that it scares him. Can he tell Aziraphale? Should he really? But he knows he has to get this off his chest if he wants to stay sane. And Aziraphale deserves an answer. 

So he steels himself for this and chokes out: “Yes. But only right after birth. And after that…” He takes a deep breath, because he knows how Aziraphale will react. “And after that I would have walked into the nearest church to put my head into the fountain of holy water. I could never have lived with such a guilt.”  
He hears a sound that’s a shocked sob.  
“No! No, you don’t mean that! It would have broken my heart to lose our child. But it would have killed me to lose you!” Aziraphale now pushes Crowley away at arm’s length to look at him. Crowley sees the terrified expression on his face, his eyes shining with sudden unshed tears.  
“Would you really have wanted to spend the rest of eternity with someone who was able to kill his own baby?”  
“If it had been the reasonable decision? Yes. I love you, Crowley. I loved you for so long, and I can’t imagine ever being without you.”  
“But you would never have been able to love someone who killed his own child.”  
“You should know me better after all the time we spent together. I have loved you for so long, I can’t imagine even a day _not_ loving you.”

“Oh angel, I wish I could believe that…” Crowley’s words are merely a whisper. He turns his face away. His long red hair falls freely over his cheeks, when he lowers his head. Why did Aziraphale ask him this question? He had hoped he would never have to think about it again. Lilian is a healthy baby, she’s fine, she’s beautiful and innocent and Crowley loves her so much… The shame over his doubts and fears during the pregnancy he still remembers very well und trembles at the memory. 

“But it’s true. Yes, I love her. So much. But I have loved you for so many years… Being without you is out of the question. Not now that we are finally together.” Aziraphale lifts his hand and gently touches Crowley’s cheek, turns his face towards him. He looks into the golden eyes he loves so much. He brushes Crowley’s hair out of his face.  
“I’m sorry I asked. But I had to know. And I am so glad everything has turned out fine.”  
“Me, too, angel,” whispers the demon and pushes his face into Aziraphale’s caressing hand.  
“I love you.” Aziraphale kisses him so sweetly… Crowley fears his heart might stop. A demon shouldn’t be loved like this. And a demon shouldn’t love like this. He is happy about every second of such love and would willingly give his life for both Aziraphale and Lilian. He snuggles close again, while Aziraphale’s arms close around him. There is no better place on this world than here in Aziraphale’s arms.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for a lot of angst now, darlings...

The next days are full of wonder for both of them. Caring for a newborn is in fact very different than they imagined. Crowley nurses Lilian when ever she needs it, no matter if day or night. When she needs to be changed they take turns. Crowley still sleeps much and is still always hungry. Aziraphale does all the shopping and takes care about all the dirty laundry a small child produces. Of course they argue a lot about the washing machine Aziraphale wants to miracle, but that ends up in Crowley’s bathroom anyway. 

They have another argument when Aziraphale asks if they should buy a pushchair for Lilian so they can take a stroll with her. But Crowley somehow manages to distract Aziraphale every time he brings it up. He doesn’t admit it, but he’s scared to take Lilian out in the open. Of course, hell could show up in his flat, too. But strolling through London with his angel and his child, showing everybody that they are not only a couple but also that they are parents… it’s too risky. So he pretends he is still too tired, that it’s too wet or too cold outside (it’s already November after all) or some other excuse. Aziraphale lets it slip, but is secretly worried. 

But apart from these disturbances everything seems to be fine when it comes to little Lilian. It’s Aziraphale who witnesses her first smile when she is a little over four weeks old. (*) 

Crowley is asleep, and Lilian wakes up in the night. Not hungry, but apparently in need of some attention and some cuddles. Crowley and Aziraphale can both tell the difference when she cries. Aziraphale, who is awake anyway, takes her out of her bassinet and carries her around in Crowley’s flat, softly talking to her, and finally sitting down with her on the sofa in the living room. Lilian lies in his arm, while he gently kisses her little hands. And that’s when she smiles at him, looking up at him. Aziraphale gasps and feels his heart swell with affection. He considers to wake Crowley, but then decides against it. Crowley will see it tomorrow. This moment he wants for himself. 

He’s not jealous, really not. Of course Crowley spends much time with their daughter. He has to nurse her, and this bond between them is naturally a really strong one. Aziraphale loves to watch them both together. Crowley is so sweet and gentle with her, so loving and caring. One could easily forget he is still a demon. His devotion to his child is obvious in everything he does for her. And it’s fine. Aziraphale is glad for it. The angel tries to spend as much time taking care for Lilian as possible. He changes her nappies, he bathes her, but mostly he takes care of her during the night while Crowley sleeps. And these moments are precious to him, because it’s just him and her. He feels it, it strengthens the bond between them, too. So when she smiles at him now for the first time, Aziraphale’s eyes fill with tears. 

“Oh darling, you’re smiling… Yes, you’re smiling at me!” he says quietly, amazed and happy and overwhelmed with emotion. He keeps his voice low, doesn’t want to wake Crowley who needs his sleep. But he has to say what’s moving him.  
“What a beautiful smile you have… You’re feeling good? My sweetheart, I’m so proud of you… Yes, your papa is so proud… I love you so much…” He plants more little kisses on her hands and she smiles again.  
“I’m so grateful… if you only knew how much I love you, Livi…” He uses the pet name Crowley came up with on the second day after her naming. Aziraphale had been so moved to hear Crowley call her Livi - the perfect amalgamation of her first names. And he had of course adopted the habit. He looks at his little daughter with so many different emotions in his heart. Joy, pride, gratitude and love are the strongest ones. But during the last weeks there are also other feelings starting to come up. Concern, worry, fear. Lilian has grown so much during the first four weeks of her life. She is a wonderful, strong, healthy baby. She should grow as fast as she does. But that shows Aziraphale something: time flies. And he knows the effects of time. And has become to dread them with every passing day… Not for him. For Lilian. He hasn’t talked to Crowley about it, yet. But he knows he has to. And fears his reaction. Fears what will come next. And he hates living in fear. 

Lilian coos and kicks her legs and reminds Aziraphale that his attention should be on her. He smiles at her.  
“Oh, did papa not pay enough attention to you, Livi? So sorry, darling.” Aziraphale takes her feet in his hands and tickles them. She makes happy gurgling sounds. Aziraphale’s heart is full of love. That makes him forget about his fears for the moment, and he concentrates just on Lilian. 

One week later, and Aziraphale can’t ignore the situation any longer. After Lilian’s bath she is settled in her bassinet, already sleeping. Aziraphale and Crowley have finished their dinner and Aziraphale is doing the washing up. Crowley uses the time for a quick shower. When he comes back into the kitchen, he has his hairbrush and a little ribbon in his hands. His hair is still a little wet and he is dressed in a pair of black silk pyjamas. His stomach is back to his old flat state.

“Angel, would you braid my hair for me?”  
Aziraphale puts the last plate back into the cupboard and turns.  
“Of course, love,” he smiles.  
“I’ll wait in the bedroom, then.”  
Aziraphale nods. He dries his hands and then follows Crowley into their bedroom. When he enters, Crowley is already sitting on the bed, brushing his hair. 

“Let me,” Aziraphale says, when he sits behind Crowley. The demon hands him the brush. Aziraphale gently brushes the gorgeous red hair. He loves the silky feeling under his fingertips. When he has disentangled every little knot, he separates Crowley’s hair into strands and starts to work on a lovely french braid. Crowley has his eyes closed and enjoys the touch and the attention. When he is done, Aziraphale secures the end of the braid with the ribbon.  
“Thank you, angel.” Crowley turns and presses a gentle kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. Aziraphale kisses him back.  
“Anything for you, my dear.”  
“I know.”  
Aziraphale caresses Crowley’s cheek with the soft tips of his fingers. The caress is tender and soft, but Crowley can see it in Aziraphale’s eyes: Something is bothering the angel. 

“What’s wrong, Zira?”  
Aziraphale sighs deeply. He knows Crowley won’t like what he’s going to talk about.  
“I had to think about Warlock,” Aziraphale says quietly.  
“Warlock? What about him?”  
“Well, we wanted a balance. It was your suggestion. Your evil influences and my good ones, and how they would make him a normal child. What if your demonic nature and my angelic one have… how do I put this… equalized each other in Lilian? And only left the human part?”  
“We’re not human.” Crowley frowns.  
“No, but we live in human bodies. And she seems to be a perfectly healthy human baby.”

Crowley considers this for a moment. It makes sense. But it also includes something he doesn’t like. At all. He feels a chill run down his spine and retreats from Aziraphale.  
“But wouldn’t that mean…” He looks over to the bassinet where Lilian is sleeping peacefully.  
“Wouldn’t that mean she is…” He can’t bring himself to say it. It’s Aziraphale who does.  
“Mortal,” he whispers. 

Crowley’s fingernails sink deep into the flesh of his palms while he balls his hands into fists. This one word contains so much, it changes everything. Crowley feels his heart begin to race. Oh he should have known… He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. It had been too good to be real.  
“No…” His voice is nearly inaudible.  
“No. I… angel…” Crowley looks at Aziraphale. Sees the despair on his face, in his eyes.  
“We can’t be sure about that.” Crowley’s voice gets louder now. “We can’t know that!”

“We don’t. But… It’s a logical assumption.”  
“But that would mean she will grow old and she will die! She will die! I can’t watch my daughter die, Aziraphale!” Crowley jumps to his feet. The urge to gather his child into his arms, to protect her from all harm and keep her safe is enormous. He hurries to the bassinet with his sleeping daughter. He looks down at her and feels a love so primal and deep that it’s scaring him. He would die for her. He has heard these words countless times throughout the millennia. Only now he realizes how true they can be. He can’t resist to take Lilian out of her bassinet. She makes some unhappy noises, but when he snuggles her against his chest, she calms down immediately.

“Crowley - I hate to say this. But we have to be honest with each other about all of this. I don’t want to see her age and die and slip away from us! I don’t! But if she is human, exactly this will happen, and it will break my heart!” Tears are gathering in Aziraphale’s eyes. He looks at his lover and their child. It looks as if Crowley is shielding her from her papa, trying to shield her from him. It hurts terribly. But wouldn’t he do the same in this situation?  
“It will break my heart. And I… I don’t know if I can cope with that. And if I can watch it closely,” Aziraphale admits. Because that’s exactly how he feels at the moment. 

Realization dawns on Crowley. “You… Are you saying you want to leave me?”  
If Aziraphale had thought Crowley couldn’t look more hurt than he already does, he was mistaken.  
“I don’t want to leave you. I could never be without you. But I am thinking about Lilian.”  
Crowley’s eyes widen. “No! No way! I will never give my child away to some stranger! How can you suggest that we give our daughter up?”  
“I’m not saying that we’re giving her up. We would give her up for adoption. There’s a difference.”  
“You want to give her away! She is your daughter, Zira!”

Crowley can’t believe what he just heard. Aziraphale wants to give their daughter away? This thought is horrible! She is just a baby, she is helpless and she is _his_! He has grown her inside his body, he has born her, he is nursing her and caring for her! 

“I know that! Don’t you see how much I love her, too? It breaks my heart, but we can’t do that to her! She is mortal, she will grow, she will get old and older and in the end we will lose her! And we are never going to change throughout the next 80 years! What will she think, when we always stay the same, hm? When her parents never get even a day older? And believe me, one day she _will_ ask us about it. And what are you going to say to her? How do you want to explain that her parents are an angel and a demon who have been loving each other for more than 6.000 years now? And that we are immortal, but she will have to die? I don’t want to explain this to her, Crowley!”

“You’re not taking my daughter away from me,” Crowley growls and even bares his teeth. And suddenly his ashen wings spread behind him, a rush of air ruffles Aziraphale’s hair. He gasps. As always, Crowley’s wings are a beautiful sight, meticulously clean and preened to a lovely shine, each and every feather in it’s place. And right now one of these wings Crowley is so immensely proud of, comes around him as if to shield him and Lilian from any harm and danger. For the first time since they have known each other Aziraphale is not so sure anymore that the demon wouldn’t hurt him. He acts like every mother would: he wants to protect his child. His heart begins to race. He tries not to show, that Crowley is in fact frightening him. Instead he tries to be reasonable. 

“Darling, no! I don’t want to take Lilian away from you! I would never do such a thing! How can you possibly think I would be so cruel?”  
“You just said it would be best if we gave her away!”  
“What kind of life would she have, living with us?”  
“We are her parents!”  
“That doesn’t necessarily mean she has the best life. Just think about it, Crowley. I have thought about it a lot, and there are so many things that come to my mind…”  
“What things? Why don’t you talk to me about such things?”  
“I didn’t want to upset you. I feared you would react like this. And you have every right to. But think about it, dearest. We don’t live like a normal family.”  
“We _are_ no normal family! But I think we’re doing good.”  
“Crowley, you never even leave the house with her!”  
“I do take her outside!”  
“On your balcony! But we can’t keep her inside and just on the balcony like… like a housecat. She will grow, she needs to see and experience the world. She needs input, stimulation and other children. It would be unbearably cruel to keep her away from a normal life.”  
“She has us!”  
“That can never be enough! Just admit it, you are scared. About…” 

Azirapahle doesn’t have to say it out loud. They both know he means heaven and hell. Crowley flinches. But of course Aziraphale is right: he is scared, and he can’t deny it. What if Beelzebub or Hastur show up? What if Gabriel materializes? They won’t ask if they can be godparents. The least horrible outcome would be, if they took Lilian away and hid them from their parents. Just to hurt them. Lilian is still just a baby. But what when she grows older? Goes to kindergarten or to school? They can’t be with her at all times. Impossible. And as quiet as heaven and hell have been, they can’t be sure it will stay the same for eternity. The constant danger of such an occurrence had worried Crowley, too. But he had tended to lock his worries away and just live the moment. A mistake, as it turns out now. Because right now all his worries and fears seem to come back and crash him under the weight of realization. Deep in his heart he knows Aziraphale is right. And he hates that he is right. 

“Neither heaven or hell have been in touch,” Crowley says and knows that this has nothing to say.  
“Doesn’t mean they never will. But even if they never show up again, which I doubt, there is still the question of what to tell Lilian about her heritage. Some day she will start asking questions. She will realize that we’re no ordinary family. Starting with questions about her mother. We appear as two men. She will ask us about who her mother was. What are we going to tell her? That we used a surrogate? What if she wants to know more?”  
“What if she doesn’t?”

Aziraphale sighs and shakes his head, and Crowley knows, his angel has a point. He feels himself shiver. He feels sick and looks down at his peacefully sleeping daughter that seems to be totally unimpressed by the argument of her parents. Tears are prickling in his eyes. He can’t imagine not to be with her. He caresses her cheek with a slightly trembling hand. 

“Crowley - I didn’t want to hurt you, and I certainly don’t want to just give Lilian away and forget her. But we have to think about something. Her future. She deserves a happy life.”  
“I do want to make her happy,” whispers Crowley, not trusting his voice to be steady.  
“I know you do. Just like me. We should do what’s best for her.”  
Crowley looks up again. Their eyes meet. Silence stretches between them. It hurts so much to know that Aziraphale is right… 

“Don’t make me do it,” begs Crowley quietly.  
“I would never do anything against your will. Never.” No. Crowley has to take the decision, too. Aziraphale sighs.  
“Look, darling… Maybe I should leave you to it. Think about everything. I don’t want to put pressure on you. What ever you want, I am with you. If you say Lilian stays with us, then she will. And I won’t make any accusations. Ever. I promise. I only want what’s best for her. Do you believe me?”  
Crowley nods. Of course he believes him. His shoulders sag, and he lets his wings disappear again. Aziraphale takes a relieved breath. 

“Maybe it’s best if I spend the night at my place. Have to re-open the bookshop, too. At least keep up the appearance that I work on a more or less regular basis. If it’s okay for you?”  
Crowley swallows. “I didn’t mean to drive you away, angel. That was never my intention.”  
“I know. And I am not upset or angry. But I think we both need a little time to sort ourselves out.” When he comes over to Crowley, he is relieved, that the demon doesn’t shy away from him. Instead Crowley pulls Aziraphale into a one armed hug while he still has Lilian in the other. His strong fingers dig into Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, if I overreacted. I know you would never do anything to hurt me,” he murmurs against Aziraphale’s shoulder.  
“It's fine, my dearest. I'm not angry. Try to get some sleep. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll be back in no time. No questions asked. Otherwise we’ll be in touch tomorrow. I love you.” He gently pushes Crowley away, but cups his face in both hands to give him a loving kiss.  
“You know how much I love you. You are my life. After all these years, I love you more with each day I can spend with you. Please know that.”  
Crowley nods. His golden eyes shine with unshed tears.  
“I know. Love you, too.”  
Aziraphale presses a very gentle kiss onto his forehead, before he lets go and turns towards Lilian. The baby is still sleeping, as he bends over her to kiss her on the forehead.  
“I love you, sweetheart.” He caresses her cheek and smiles down at her. “God bless you, darling.”

Crowley watches Aziraphale leave. He stands frozen to the spot, not knowing what to do now. Lilian moves a little in her sleep, and all of a sudden Crowley feels immensely tired. He closes his eyes for a moment, then takes a deep breath and lays Lilian back down in her bassinet. After that he falls onto the bed. This is worse than every nightmare he ever had. Every doubt and fear is coming back to him, every uncertainty and every worry. How is he supposed to decide about Lilians whole future? He can’t do such a thing. But he must. And it will be exhausting and painful. He’s sure about that. He looks over to the bassinet. If Lilian knew what he is thinking about right now - how would she feel? 

Crowley has no choice but think about what Aziraphale said. The thing is: Aziraphale is right about everything. Heaven and hell are a constant threat. Aziraphale and Crowley are practically immortal, if they don’t act stupid enough to discorporate themselves. But Lilian is not immortal. She will change so fast. She has already. She has gained at least two pounds, her face is rounder, she has grown out of her first onesies. She’s not the tiny newborn anymore. Soon she will become a toddler, will become more and more independent. 

Crowley groans loudly and presses the heels of his hands over his eyes. How is he supposed to do this? How can he make the right decision? If Aziraphale’s theory is true, they are in for a lot of pain and trouble. 

When he hears Lilian begin to fuss, he picks her up and walks up and down with her. She’s not hungry at the moment, only wants his warmth and cuddles and falls back asleep. Crowley keeps on walking, while his mind is racing. Before he can start to really think about what Aziraphale has said he has to be sure. He has to be. He looks at Lilians peaceful little face. 

“Are you up to a first day out? What about we visit someone very special, hm? She doesn’t know about you yet. But I’m sure she will adore you. Just like your papa and me adore you. You’re fine with that? That’s what I thought. Alright then. Daddy’s going to pack a few things for you and me.” Lilian doesn’t react at all, when he puts her back into her bassinet and begins to pack the most necessary things he will need for them both. 

Aziraphale doesn’t hear anything from Crowley during the whole night. He’s not sure if this is a good sign or a bad sign. He decides to take it as a good one. Crowley would have called him, should he have needed him. In the morning Aziraphale can’t stop himself from walking over to his favourite bakery to buy some croissants for Crowley for breakfast. He wants to surprise him, maybe have a coffee with him before he goes back home to open the shop for a few hours. Like before he uses his keys to let himself into Crowley’s flat. And discovers the obvious: Crowley is gone, and so is Lilian. 

(*) I know, babies smile for the first time around the age of six weeks, I adjusted it a little to fit in the narrative…


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, for leaving kudos and for leaving comments! It means the world to me! 
> 
> I wish you all a very happy new year 2020!

Crowley carries the sleeping baby towards the door of Jasmine cottage. He knocks and waits, gently rocking Lilian in his arms. Quick, light footsteps tell him that it’s Anathema who's going to open the door. He reminds himself to remain as calm as possible. He’s here to let Anathema take a look at Lilian. And in the end to decide what he should do next. His mind had been on only one thing during the previous night and his ride to Tadfield: What if Aziraphale was right about Lilian? But for now he will have to explain to Anathema what has happened in the last months… 

Anathema opens the door. She’s wearing her glasses and a dark blue dress, her dark hair made up into a messy ponytail.  
She had never before seen Crowley as a woman, and so it takes her a moment to recognize him. “Crowley?”  
And then her gaze lands on Lilian, and she stares at the baby, mouth slightly open, stunned.  
“Sorry to come over unannounced, but… something happened,” Crowley says. He looks at her pleadingly. Anathema stares at him now.  
“Oh my god… is that… is that… what… ” She can’t seem to form a complete sentence.  
“This is Lilian. Can I please come in? Is Newton home? I have to ask for a favour.”  
“Newton is at work.” Anathema opens the door wider to let Crowley in. Crowley sighs, when he follows Anathema into the living room.  
“Sorry, I… was working on my book… erm.. please, sit down.” Crowley nods and sits down on the sofa, cradling Lilian against his chest. He hopes she’ll wake soon. His breasts are sore, he has to feed her. But the soft purring of the Bentley’s engine has lulled Lilian into such a deep slumber that she has slept soundly for two hours. 

Anathema takes a seat opposite Crowley in one of the armchairs. They both stay silent for a while. Anathema doesn’t have the slightest idea what to ask first - there are at least a dozen questions on her mind. Crowley can clearly see how unable to cope she is. So he starts to explain. 

“I… I know, this must seem very strange for you. Lilian is my daughter. Zira’s and my daughter. She is five weeks old now. As you can clearly see, I inhabit a female body at the moment, and… I gave birth to her. She wasn’t planned. It was an accident. And Zira and me had no idea whatsoever what it was that was growing inside me. But now she’s born, and we are fairly sure she is a normal, human child. But I… I wanted you to take a look at her. If you can see her aura. And… talk to you… About… I… we… that is…” His words start to fail him towards the end. He can’t tell her in the first few minutes what mental turmoil he is in.

Crowley has gotten to know Anathema as a very pragmatic person, not easily surprised and very badass if she has to be. But right now she still looks confused and very obviously tries to make sense of his words. Finally she takes a deep breath.  
“So let me summon this up. Just to be totally clear here. You and Aziraphale are in a relationship, of course. Everybody knows about that. But you… can change your gender. And very obviously did. And neither of you thought about birth control. Okay, maybe understandable. Who would think a demon and an angel would be able to reproduce? So you got pregnant, you gave birth to her and now you want me to tell you if she is human or a hybrid or… whatever. Whow. That’s… quite a story. Hats off.”

“Don’t make fun of me. The last nine months weren’t funny.”  
“Then why did you keep her? You could have… I mean…” She can’t bring herself to say it loud. But they both know what she wants to say.  
“We talked about it. But I couldn’t do it. And now when I look at her I just see… my daughter.”  
“But you still have doubts. About what she is.”  
“We are fairly sure she is entirely human. If you could just… I have to be sure.”  
“Why is Aziraphale not with you? Does he know you’re here?”  
“No…” sighs Crowley.  
“He will be worried about both of you.”  
“I know…”  
Of course Aziraphale is worried. Crowley’s mobile had been ringing almost constantly since half an hour ago until Crowley had muted it.

They stay silent for a moment. Then Anathema rightens her glasses before she changes from the armchair to the sofa and takes a seat next to Crowley.  
“Can you move her a little so I can see her better?”  
“Of course.” Crowley gently moves Lilian into a position, where Anathema can see more of her. The young woman looks closely. And smiles after some moments.  
“What do you see? Can you see her aura? What does it look like? Is she… is she entirely human?”

Anathema sighs. She already knows what’s making Crowley so agitated. She smiles at him.  
“It’s peach,” she says and extends a hand to gently touch the baby’s soft cheek.  
“Peach?” Crowley breathes. He looks down at Lilian.  
“Yes. Perfect combination of the both of you.”  
“What - you mean…”  
“Your auras. Have I never told you about them?” 

Anathema keeps looking at Lilian, still smiling while she talks: “Aziraphale’s aura is a light rose golden shade. Yours is darker, red and bronze. Both your auras are very strong. When you’re standing close, your auras start to mingle, and it’s the same colour like hers. Only thing that’s missing with her is the sparkle.”  
“We are sparkling?” Crowley asks disbelievingly.  
“Well, Aziraphale is. It’s like golden glitter. While yours is… I can’t describe it. It’s more like an anti-sparkle. Does that even make sense? But it’s there. I saw it, too, in Gabriel and Beelezbub. Supernatural auras are different. I can’t see any sparkle in Lilian.”  
Anathema looks up now, meets Crowleys gaze. “I could confirm it with a spell, but I don’t think I have to. She’s entirely human.”

Crowley doesn’t know what he is supposed to feel. Should he feel relief that there is nothing demonic in his daughter? That there is no inheritance of any supernatural nature at all? Or should he feel grieve? Because he has proof now. Lilian is human. She is mortal. It’s just like Aziraphale said: they will lose her. And it already breaks Crowley’s heart… He snuggles the little girl closer to his chest. He would do anything for her to keep her safe. To keep her happy. To protect her. But he can no longer deny what he has felt - just like Aziraphale: The only way to accomplish all that for her, will be to give her up. The sooner the better. Tears are beginning to fill his eyes and slowly start to run down his cheeks. He takes off his sunglasses and carelessly throws them onto the coffee table. He makes no attempt to hide his pain from Anathema. 

Anathema is at a loss what to do. She would love to help, but doesn’t know what to say or do, because she doesn’t know why Crowley is crying. She looks down at her lap, uncomfortable in the presence of a crying demon, cradling his human child. Crowley makes no sound. He just sits there, sniffs from time to time and desperately tries to calm down. It takes him a few minutes, until he finally takes a shaky breath and wipes the tears from his cheeks.  
“‘m sorry… Still hormonally imbalanced, I suppose,” Crowley murmurs.  
“It’s totally understandable. Can I get you something to drink?”  
Crowley sighs. “I would love to have a coffee…”  
“No problem. Did you already have breakfast? Because I didn’t. I could make us something.”  
Crowley nods. Yes, he is hungry. He has never thought that nursing a child would take such a great toll.  
“Okay. Just give me a few minutes.” 

Anathema leaves for the kitchen. She leans against the worktop for a moment. She has the feeling something monumental will happen. And very soon. She has no idea if in a good or a bad way, but she feels it coming. Before she does anything else, she reaches into her pocket and writes a quick message to Aziraphale’s mobile: “Wanted to let you know, that Crowley and Lilian are here. They are both well. Ana” She knows the angel is not very fond of modern technology, but he will surely be worried for his mate and child, so he will check his mobile. With a sigh she starts to improvise a little breakfast. 

While she whisks some eggs, she hears the telltale sound of a baby crying and Crowley’s low, rumbling voice. She can’t tell what he’s saying and occupies herself with the breakfast. When she is finished and enters the living room with a tray she hesitates. 

“Come in, I don’t mind,” Crowley says, his voice gentle. He has unbuttoned his blouse and is breast feeding little Lilian. Anathema puts the tray down onto the table.  
“Oh, Anathema, would you do me a favour? There’s a bag in the Bentley. Could you go and fetch it for me?” Crowley wriggles a little until he can fish his car keys out of his trouser pocket and hands them out for her to take.  
“Sure. Be right back. Anything else you want me to get?”  
“Just the bag.”

Anathema gets the bag and places it next to Crowley on the sofa.  
“Thank you.” Crowley switches sides now and smiles, when Lilian latches onto his other nipple. He pulls the zipper of the bag open and pulls out a cloth.  
“She has quite an appetite.” He puts the cloth over his left shoulder. Anathema pours them coffee and starts on her breakfast. She tries not to stare at the demon, but it’s hard not to. 

After a few more minutes Crowley lifts Lilian over his shoulder to burp her. He gently cleans her face and lays her down next to him, before he adjusts the nursing bra he has been wearing and pulls the blouse close over his chest to do up the buttons.  
“Sorry. Didn’t want to embarrass you.”  
“No, it’s fine. It’s only natural. Best way to feed a baby.”  
“It is.” He takes his coffee mug and sighs, then takes a big sip. “Nights are short. We don’t need to sleep, but I used to sleep on a regular basis. And producing milk seems to take up much more energy than I thought.”

Crowley begins to eat, too. Lilian is lying next to him, kicking her legs and making gurgling and cooing noises.  
“Is she always this happy?” Anathema asks.  
“She can be quite a handful. I’m sure you will hear her crying later.” He pauses, then asks: “Did you tell Aziraphale that I’m here?”  
No need to deny anything. Anathema nods. “Sent him a text.”  
“Thank someone he lately figured out how to open and write text messages. He’s not good with modern tech.”  
“He’ll read my text, I’m sure.”  
Crowley chuckles, then yawns. “Sorry.”  
“You can take a nap upstairs in the guest bedroom, if you like.”  
Crowley considers this for a moment. “May be a good idea.” 

About an hour later Aziraphale pays the cabbie and runs toward the cottage. He knocks, anxiously shifting from foot to foot, until Anathema opens the door.  
“Are they both alright?” is his only concern, when he goes past Anathema and hurries into the living room. It’s empty.  
“They are fine. But Crowley was dead tired. I sent him upstairs with Lilian. He’ll be asleep, I hope.”  
Aziraphale rubs his hand over his face. “Then I should let him sleep. I’m sorry, Anathema. Thank you for texting me.”  
Aziraphale turns to smile a tired smile at Anathema, and then pulls her into a gentle hug.  
“It’s fine. You look horrible, if I dare say so. Do you want some tea?”  
“Oh yes, please. How is he? What did he tell you? Is Lilian fine?”  
“They are both fine. Please, calm down. Let’s go sit in the kitchen, shall we?”

15 minutes later Aziraphael is much calmer. Anathema has told him everything important, including about Lilian’s aura. And the fact that she, too, believes her to be human.  
“Crowley was so upset. You should have seen his face when he realized what this implies,” sighs the angel.  
“He is still upset about it. I can see how stressed and alert he is. He is worried and anxious. I can understand him. Lilian is such a sweet, beautiful little baby. He clearly loves her.”  
“He does. Dear Lord, he does…”  
“And you do, too.”  
“Of course I do. She’s my daughter. But Crowley grew her inside his body. He gave birth all on his own. He didn’t want anybody near. Not even me. He was so brave, so strong. And… he was so relieved when he realized she was a healthy little girl. No monstrosity. No abomination. Not a demon-angel-hybrid with wings and fangs and scales and too many eyes… And he was happy. I have never seen him this happy. Never. And now it’s clear we’re going to lose her. A decade is not much more than a moment for beings like Crowley and me. We exist out of time. It’s like we’re… rocks in the river of time. Time flows around us but doesn’t affect us. It touches us, but it doesn’t change us. But time will change Lilian, and time will take her away from us. There is nothing we can do about that. It’s something we have to accept. But it’s hard for Crowley to accept it. I am scared. Scared that it will break him… you don’t know him like I do. I know how fragile he can be.” 

It’s true - Aziraphale has already seen Crowley weak and vulnerable. He always tries to give the impression of a vain, tough bastard. But he’s much more than that.  
Anathema sighs. She reaches over the kitchen table to put her hand over Aziraphale’s.  
“I can hardly imagine how it must feel for you two to know all that. I wish I could do more, but there’s not much I can do.”  
Aziraphale smiles at her. “I’m glad you were there for Crowley. That’s so much more than one could expect. Thank you.”  
“No need to thank me. But you should talk about what to do. If Lilian grows she will start asking questions.”  
“I know… That’s what I told Crowley. And that’s what upset him so much. We want our daughter to be happy. But I’m not sure how to manage that.”  
“Any word from your respective sides?”  
“No. But we can’t be sure they won’t get back to us. You have seen Gabriel and Beelzebub. They are not exactly friends and tried to discorporate us. They would never hesitate to do something to Lilian. One little mortal life doesn’t count for them.”  
“Then you have to think about what’s best and safest for her.”  
“I do little else, Anathema…” Aziraphale groans. He feels worn out.  
“I should go look after Crowley and Lilian,” he then says. Anathema nods.  
“The guest bedroom is upstairs, first door on the left.”

Aziraphale very slowly opens the door to the guest bedroom. Crowley is lying in bed, Lilian next to him. They are both asleep. Crowley’s wings are out, and one of them is spread over him and Lilian like the most exclusive blanket in the world, shielding them both from any harm. Aziraphale smiles when he sees that one of Lilian’s hands is holding onto some of the soft dark feathers. Crowley will have to preen his wing after his nap. As silently as he can Aziraphale comes closer and sits down next to the bed on a chair. He just wants to look at them both for as long as he can. But as if Crowley can feel his presence (and he very likely can), he starts to stir a few minutes later. He blinks his eyes open and smiles, when he sees Aziraphale. 

“You’re here.”  
“Of course I am. You didn’t expect me to stay in London, did you?” Aziraphale comes to sit on the bed now.  
“How are you feeling?” Aziraphale bends over and kisses Crowley on the cheek. His hand glides lovingly over the soft feathers of Crowley’s beautiful wing.  
“Better. I’m sorry I left without a word.”  
“You shouldn’t have done that. I was so worried for you both.”  
Crowley doesn’t know what to say. There is so much they have to talk about, so many things unspoken. There is a decision to make. Although he knows unconsciously they both already have made it. It’s still hard to talk about it. 

“You were right,” Crowley then says, “about Lilian. I asked Anathema if she could see her aura. She is human.”  
Aziraphale lowers his gaze to Lilian, who is peacefully sleeping. As if she can feel him, she wriggles a little and smiles in her sleep. Aziraphale feels tears forming in his eyes.  
“My little girl…” Aziraphale breathes. God, how he loves her… He feels himself shaking. Crowley can see it. He makes some room on the bed and very gently pulls Lilian closer. Aziraphale understands. He toes off his shoes, then lies down, facing Crowley, Lilian lying between them. Crowley’s wing comes to shield all three of them. Aziraphale reaches for Crowley’s hand and sees silent tears running out of the corners of Crowley’s eyes. He can’t hold back his own tears any longer. 

They stay like this for a while, until Crowley finally finds the strength to say: “You are right, Zira. We can’t keep her with us. It would be terribly unfair to her. I want her to have a normal life. To enjoy a life like every child should. She can’t with us as her parents.”  
Aziraphale closes his eyes. Oh how this hurts… Crowley finally admitting that giving Lilian away is the only reasonable thing to do… He feels like his heart could break any moment. He will lose Lilian. And it will change them both forever. And that frightens him immensely. 

Crowley continues: “I was thinking… I can’t give Lilian away to some random stranger. I have to know she is fine. I have to make sure we can still be part of her life. That way we can help when ever help is needed. Keep a watchful eye on her.”  
“But how would you want to do that? We can’t reveal ourselves to someone, offer our help as supernatural beings and ask them to raise our child for us?”  
“Maybe we don’t have to reveal ourselves. What about if we ask Anathema and Newt if they can do it?”

Aziraphale’s eyes go wide. “You can’t be serious! Crowley, we can’t show up on their doorstep, introduce them to our baby and then ask them if they want to adopt it!”  
“Why not? We can trust them. They are a young couple. Young couples want children, right?”  
“Yes, of course. But own children! Why should they adopt our baby?”  
“Why shouldn’t they? It’s no ordinary child we’re talking about. We’re talking about our daughter. I can’t give Lilian away to someone we don’t know. I just can’t.”  
“We don’t have a clue if they both want a child.”  
“We can ask them.”  
“Why are you suddenly so keen to give Lilian away?”  
“Because it get’s harder with every day that passes! Can’t you see that?”  
“Shush, she will hear you.”  
“She will anyway.”  
“But seriously, why Anathema and Newt? How did you get this stupid idea?”  
“It’s not stupid when you think it through.”

Crowley pushes himself up on one elbow now. “I have thought about what you said. The whole night and the whole way to Tadfield. I thought about Livi’s future. About our options. There are not many. First: Livi stays with us. Too dangerous for all the three of us and therefore not the number one option if we want Livi to have a normal life. Plus: we will have to explain to her that we’re not human and that she will change but we don’t. Second: We give her up for adoption. This leaves us two new options: separate us completely. Cut all the strings attached between us and never see Livi again. Or we find her some parents we can still keep contact with. I am certainly not the type to make friends easily. And all _you_ have is acquaintances. We can’t even call Anathema and Newt our friends. We don’t know them well enough. But what we know is one thing: we can trust them. And they like us.”  
“But that can’t be enough to adopt our baby. You can’t put such a responsibility on them. And don’t fool yourself: we can ask them, but the possibility of them agreeing to our plea is minimal.”  
Crowley sighs. “I know that. But do you have a better idea? We’re talking about her.” Crowley looks down at Lilian. She is wholly undisturbed by their parent’s conversation. Crowley caresses her cheek, and Lilian smiles in her sleep. When Crowley looks up and at Aziraphale there are new tears in his eyes. 

“I’m trying to be as brave as I can here, Zira. Don’t you see that? I love her. I don’t want to do that, but you were right, when you said, she wouldn’t have the life she deserves with us. I hate to admit you were right. Oh someone…” Crowley sits up now and turns his back to Aziraphale. He buries his face in his hands, while his wings come around him as if to hug himself. How is he supposed to cope with all this? He is just a demon, he shouldn’t even feel all the things he’s feeling right now. 

Aziraphale is at a loss what to do and say. Now that Crowley is talking about giving Lilian away the whole situation puts a big strain on Aziraphale. It’s different to come a conclusion about something and then beginning to discuss it and act upon it. He puts a hand between Crowley’s wings.  
“Dearest… I’m sorry. I know how hard this must be for you…” he murmurs und gently rubs Crowley’s back. Crowley can’t say anything for a few more minutes. He just sits there, fights his devastation and tries not to go mad with this whole situation. 

Finally he takes a deep breath and makes his wings disappear. He turns back to Aziraphale, face serious, his eyes red rimmed and still shining with unshed tears.  
“We have to take a decision. And we have to take it soon, before I completely lose it.”  
Aziraphale comes closer to sit next to him.  
“It’s just that… I’m surprised. And this is such a big decision…”  
“I know. Believe me, I know. But it’s the only solution I can think about.”  
Aziraphale pulls Crowley into his arms. He kisses him on the cheek, caresses his back. Crowley hugs him tight and buries his face in Aziraphale’s strong shoulder. His warm angel scent calms him. 

“I don’t want to let her go…”, murmurs Aziraphale. This confession doesn’t make it any easier for Crowley. He can’t say anything to it. What could he say? A sound from Lilian pulls them out of the moment. They look down at her. She’s awake, kicking her little legs. Crowley can’t help but smile at her.  
“Hey, Livi… I’m glad you don’t have any clue what your papa and I are talking about.” He grabs Aziraphale’s hand. 

“We shouldn’t hesitate to ask them,” Crowley then says quietly. Aziraphale gasps.  
“But surely you don’t want to talk to them today? I’m not sure if I’m prepared for such a talk,” Aziraphale admits.  
“Since we’re already here… Can you do the talking? I am not sure if I can.”  
“What? You want me to be the one to ask them if they want to adopt our baby?”  
“You are stronger than me in that regard. You are a principality, you were a warrior in the old days. The guardian angel of the eastern gate. I am just a little demon…”  
“You are her mother.”  
“That’s why I can’t start the conversation.”  
“Dear lord… I don’t know if this is a good idea. I have to admit you’re right that it gets more and more difficult the longer we wait. But what do you want me to say?”  
“The truth.”

They look at each other. This might sound easy, but it surely isn’t. And there is of course the not so small chance Anathema and Newton will laugh at them or even throw them out. Aziraphale is not sure what would be worse.  
“Crowley, darling, I… I don’t know if I can do all the talking alone.”  
“You’ll be fine, I’m sure.”  
“Are you sure you want this? Are you absolutely sure?”

Crowley takes a shuddering breath. “I don’t _want_ this, Zira. But there is no other way. You were the one who first talked about it.”  
Aziraphale lowers his head. Yes, he had brought the subject up. And now, like a self fulfilling prophecy, they are talking about giving their child away. He feels like he should wake up from a nightmare any minute now. Even though he never even had a nightmare and very rarely sleeps. When he looks up again he sees the pain and fear on Crowley’s face. Then he takes a deep breath and nods.  
“Alright. But we should wait for Newt to come home.”


	13. Chapter 13

Newton is as shocked as Anathema had been, when he comes home to a Crowley, nursing an infant on their sofa, and Aziraphale, hovering nearby like a lioness protecting her cubs. But Newton gets over it pretty fast. The shopping he has done is put to good use, Aziraphale pretending to help in the kitchen to boil a big pot of pasta along with a rich tomato sauce. Aziraphale uses the opportunity to tell Newton what happened in the last months while they cook. They eat together, Lilian snuggled safely against Aziraphale’s warm chest. After their improvised supper they sit together and Newton is the first to approach the elephant in the room. 

“Why are you here? What’s so important that you’re taking your newborn baby daughter out here to Tadfield?”  
Crowley and Aziraphale exchange a look. Aziraphale still has Lilian in his arms. Newton has already seen him concerned and worried. But never like this. And Crowley is a picture of misery. The only time their faces light up is, when they look at their baby. 

“Go on. I’m sure I won’t like it, but I want to hear nonetheless. Is the baby really alright? Or is there something we must know?”  
Aziraphale sighs, while Crowley bites his lip. He can’t say it. Saying it out loud wold feel like a betrayal to his child. He knows they have to do this. But he fears that if he says it, he will start crying again and won’t be able to stop. That’s why he has asked Aziraphale to do the talking.

“Lilian is a human child. She is ours. But she is human,” Aziraphale begins. His finger starts to caress Lilian’s little fist. “And we are not. We talked about… ending the pregnancy. When Crowley found out he was pregnant. But… we couldn’t. We were scared throughout the whole time. And we were so happy when she was born and we discovered that she was a healthy human baby. But…” Aziraphale swallows. He looks at Lilian’s tiny face. She smiles in her sleep. 

“She will age. She will die. We won’t. There is nothing we can do about that. But we want to spare her the pain of realizing that her parents will be here for eternity. And she won’t. We can’t do that to her. And therefore… We wanted to ask you… you both… if you would take care of her. Adopt her. We would watch from a distance. We would help and support you wherever we can. But she mustn’t know who we really are.”

There is a moment of silence. Anathema looks at them with wide eyes, but says nothing.  
“You can’t be serious,” says Newton. He has gone pale and looks to Anathema.  
“Did you know that? Did they already talk to you about this?”  
“No, darling. It was clear there was something. But not that.” She turns to Aziraphale.  
“You can’t just come here and expect us to take on responsibility for your baby!”  
Aziraphale bites his lip. He has expected this reaction. 

“We don’t expect you to. But… you know what we are. You know we fooled heaven and hell with the body switch. Our former sides haven’t been in touch since then. But we can’t be sure they will leave us alone in the future. If they find out about Lilian, she’s not safe. I don’t know if we can protect her. We are scared she could be in danger. That’s the other thing we’re so worried about. We can’t keep her locked away from the world, and we can’t let her know what we are. Please, we need your help.”  
Newton scoffs. “You should have thought about that beforehand.”  
“Why would we? We didn’t even know we would be able to have a child.”  
“You were not forced to keep her.”

“That’s my fault,” Crowley says now, “I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t end the pregnancy. I just couldn’t. And seeing her now…” He exchanges a look with Aziraphale and reaches for Lilian. Aziraphale hands the baby over to him, and Crowley snuggles her against his chest, kisses her on the forehead.  
“Isn’t she a wonder? Look at her. I am so glad she is what she is. I had so many fears during the whole pregnancy. But she is perfect. She is healthy, she is beautiful and she deserves the best life. We can’t give that to her. I know we ask for much. But please… think about it. Not for us. But for her.”  
With a sigh Crowley takes off his sunglasses. He looks at Anathema and Newton, lets them see his emotions without the protective shields of his dark glasses. They both see the despair in his golden eyes, the fear and the pain. 

It’s Aziraphale who speaks again. “We don’t expect you to decide just now. It’s a decision for life. It should be thought through and talked about. You can and you should take your time. It’s just… Lilian is already five weeks old. It will become more and more difficult with every week that passes. For us and for her. Just like I said before: we’ll be there when ever you need us. We will support you in every way we can. Financially, too, if you need it. You would be her parents. And we… would be… her godfathers.”  
He looks at Crowley, sees him flinch. The memory of a certain night 12 years ago is still fresh. They had talked about being Warlock’s godfathers. And it had felt strangely nice. This feels horrible. 

It’s silent for a moment. Newton and Anathema look at each other. Aziraphale stands up.  
“Maybe we should leave you now. I’m sorry we surprised you with this. Like I said: take your time. Think about it. And call us. If you say you don’t want to do it, we wouldn’t be cross. Don’t feel obliged to do this when you don’t actually want to. Crowley, darling… Let’s go back home. It was a long day for you and Lilian.”  
Crowley sighs, but nods. “Yes. Alright, angel. Thank you, Anathema. For taking a look at her and… everything.” 

They collect their belongings and say goodbye. Anathema and Newton are still in shock, they can see it. Crowley puts Lilian into the car seat he has miracled for the drive to Tadfield, and Aziraphale has to sit in the back for today. They are silent throughout the whole ride back to London. Crowley drives according to regulations, putting Lillians well being over his love for speed. He parks the Bentley in front of his apartment building. Lilian begins to cry, when Crowley takes the car seat and carries her upstairs. Once in his flat, he takes her to the bedroom to change her nappy and then feed her, while Aziraphale makes some tea. He joins his demon and his daughter in the bedroom and sips his tea, watching them. Crowley is as tender and gentle with her as always. When she is finished nursing, Crowley holds her for a while longer, until she has fallen asleep before he lays her down in her bassinet. Then he takes his tea mug and pulls Aziraphale into his living room. 

“I can’t imagine not being with her…” Crowley sinks onto his sofa and snuggles into Aziraphale’s side.  
“Me neither… Do you think they will do it?” He puts his arm around Crowley’s shoulders and kisses his crown.  
“I hope so. They were just shocked. It’s understandable.”  
“How much time will they need, what do you think?”  
“Dunno. A few days tops.”  
“I’m staying the nights. I’ll open the shop, but I’m staying with you again.”  
“Don’t worry. I won’t run away again.”  
“I surely hope so. You should have talked to me.”  
“I know. And I’m sorry. But I was desperate.”  
Aziraphale sighs. “If they do it… Maybe we should stay with them for the first few days. To show them everything and to help them. And Lilian will have to switch from breast feeding to formula. I don’t think she will like that.”  
“She will hate it. But we have no other choice.”  
They fall silent, both lost in their own thoughts and sorrows. The next days will be another time of torture for them. 

On the second day after their visit to Tadfield Aziraphale is in his shop, when Crowley’s mobile rings and he sees Anathema’s number. He’s not sure what to feel. It all depends on what she and Newton have decided. He takes the call. 

“Hi, Anathema.”  
“Crowley - hello. Am I interrupting something?”  
“No. No, it’s fine.”  
Silence. Crowley grips his mobile so hard he fears it my crumble to dust beneath his fingers. Until he finds the courage to ask: “So - what’s your decision?”  
He hears Anathema take a deep breath. “We’ll do it. But there are some things we have to talk about beforehand. Can we come to London to see you both and talk about everything?”  
“Sure. Whenever you like.” His heart is racing. Oh Satan, it’s really happening… He wants to flee. He wants to take Lilian and run as fast and as far as he can. But he knows it wouldn’t help. They talked about this. It’s the best for Lilian. Even if it breaks his heart. 

“Okay. Tomorrow? I think we should not hesitate. Newton has a day off tomorrow, so we can come over. The bookshop?”  
“We’ll be there. When?”  
“Eleven.”  
“Right. Okay. See you tomorrow, then.”  
“Yes…”  
Silence again. Crowley waits for a moment, until Anathema quietly says: “Bye…” and ends the call. Crowley slips his mobile into the pocket of his dressing gown, then goes over to Lilian’s bed. Lilian is awake, smiles up at him and makes a happy, gurgling sound. The mobile hanging over her bed fascinates her to no end, and she already tries to reach for the little plush stars with her tiny hands. Aziraphale has brought the mobile for her, knowing fully well, that Crowley once created stars when he was still an angel…  
Crowley bends over the bed and picks Lilian up, cradles her against his chest and cries silent tears of devastation. How is he gonna survive this? 

Aziraphale and Crowley are both nervous wrecks, while they wait for Newton and Anathema to arrive. The book shop is closed for business. Aziraphale keeps an eye out at the front door so he can open when Newton and Anathema arrive. Crowley is in the backroom with Lilian. She seems so sense the stress he’s under, the tension in his muscles. She is unhappy and cries. Crowley walks with her, gently rocking her in his arms. That at last makes her fall asleep, and he can lay her down. 

Finally at a quarter past eleven he hears Aziraphale unlock the door and greet Anathema and Newton. Aziraphale accompanies them into the backroom of the shop. 

“Sorry. Wasn’t easy to find a space for the car”, says Newton with an apologetic smile.  
Crowley scoffs. “That’s not a car, Newt. That’s a joke. You should think about a new one anyway now.”  
“Yes, maybe.”  
“Crowley…” scolds Aziraphale quietly, then asks: “Do you want some tea?”  
Anathema sighs and nods. “Yes. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

An hour later they all feel a little tired.  
“Shall we help you with the nursery?” asks Aziraphale. Just like last time he has done most of the talking.  
“I think we can manage on our own, shouldn’t take us more than two days”, says Anathema and knows she will do most of it. It will be much quicker and less of a mess if she does it herself.  
“Maybe you should already start Lilian on formula so she’s used to it when she moves in with us”, she suggests.  
Crowley swallows. “I… I already started her on formula. She’s not very fond of it, but she drinks it. She’s not weaned, yet. It will take her a few more days.”  
“We thought…” Aziraphale starts, “We thought about staying with you for some days. Until she is weaned. And we can help you during the first days. Lilian doesn’t know anybody else but us, she will need some time to get to know you and to settle down.”  
“Sounds reasonable,” nods Anathema.  
“We wouldn’t even need a bedroom. Crowley would sleep on the sofa, and I don’t need to sleep.”  
“Alright.”

“Do you want to take our bassinet for her or do you want to buy everything new?” asks Aziraphale, trying to change the subject. This conversation is hard for both of them, but it’s even harder for Crowley. Every few seconds his gaze wanders to Lilian. The baby is sleeping in a little nest on the sofa. Aziraphale has made sure she won’t fall when she moves. But so far she has been quiet and peaceful. 

“We have already ordered something online yesterday. Should be there tomorrow,” says Newton and shivers a little, when Crowley’s head whips around to look at him. He can’t see his eyes through the dark glasses but is sure, that Crowley looks at him with a multitude of mixed feelings. But Crowley tries to smile. “I’m sure you picked the right things for her.”  
“I hope you’ll like them. We’re going to buy some paint today, too, so I can start decorating her room,” says Anathema. She can practically feel Crowley’s sadness and how hard he tries not to show it.  
“She has already grown out of some of her onesies, but you can take the rest of course.”  
“Thank you.” 

They all fall silent for a moment. The only sound is an ancient clock ticking away in a corner of the shop. 

“So when do you want to… bring her to Tadfield?”, Newton asks the question they all four haven’t dared to think about. He sees the pain on Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s faces. But he has to ask, hasn’t he? And they shouldn’t wait too long. The longer they wait, the harder it will be for every single one of them.  
“I… let us pack her things and…” Crowley swallows hard. How should he decide when he is ready to give his daughter up? He will never be really ready. But if he has to do it, he at least wants to create the best memories for him to save for the millennia to come… Oh best not to think about it… he will stay here, while she will eventually die…

“We’ll be there on Friday. Bring everything you need. And… help you through the first days,” he finally says, his voice hoarse. Aziraphale can see how miserable he feels and knows, that they will spend the next two days without any sleep, always near their child. What a cruel world… but it’s the best they can do for Lilian.  
“Sounds good. One more thing, though. What about the paperwork? Everything has to be legally correct,” Anathema says.  
“I will take care of everything. Nobody will know she’s not your daughter,” Aziraphale tries to reassure her. 

Anathema and Newton exchange a look. “Um… actually we talked about… We don’t want to lie to her, and it would be suspicious if we showed up in Tadfield with a six week old baby without anybody seeing me pregnant beforehand. And our families know I wasn’t pregnant. That just won’t work.” Anathema looks at Crowley and Aziraphale and sees she has surprised them.  
“You… you want to tell her she is adopted?”, asks Aziraphale, “Why would you do that?”  
“Just like I said: We can’t fool dozens of people. And I don’t want to lie to Lilian.”  
“But what if she starts to ask questions when she gets older? She can’t find out about us! That’s probably the most important!”, Crowley demurs.  
“She won’t find out anything about her real parents if you arrange the papers correctly. A closed adoption doesn’t allow for any inquiries. Can you do that?”  
Crowley reaches for Aziraphale’s hand. “Can you?”  
“But why do you want to tell her when you don’t have to?” asks Aziraphale, confused. 

Anathema sighs. “I just told you. I can’t show up with a baby without raising questions. And Newt and me both have a family who will ask questions, too. Don’t you see?”  
Aziraphale lowers his head. He nods. “I understand. I will take of everything. Don’t worry.”  
“Thank you,” the young woman sighs. She and Newton have talked about it for hours. They are well aware it won’t be easy to raise a child that’s not their own. There will be many questions. And they have decided on another thing.  
“We’re going to marry, by the way. In June. It’t the appropriate thing to do. We want to be a real family. Will you come?”  
Crowley feels as if a hand is choking him. He can barely manage a smile and a nod. He feels Aziraphale squeeze his hand.  
“Congratulations. That’s wonderful news. Of course we will be there,” Aziraphale says. And he is in fact happy for them. 

Silence begins to stretch between them. Finally Newton sighs and turns to Anathema. “We should be on our way, soon, don’t you think?”  
Anathema forces herself to smile. “You’re right. We still have so much to take care of…” They get up. Crowley can’t gather enough strength to get up. Aziraphale accompanies Anathema and Newton to the door.  
“Thank you for coming. We’ll see you on Friday.”  
“Yes. Take care.”  
Aziraphale hugs them both, then unlocks the shop door to let them out and closes up behind them again. When he turns he sees Crowley still sitting on his chair, elbows on the table, hands in his hair. Aziraphale’s heart aches, because Crowley is showing the misery he himself feels, too. Aziraphale leans against the door for a moment, feeling weak.  
“Crowley, we decided this together,” he says quietly. Crowley looks up at him.  
“We did. But it still hurts like hell.”

With a sigh Aziraphale pushes himself off the door and walks over to him. Crowley turns and flings both arms around Aziraphale’s middle. He buries his face in Aziraphale’s belly, while the angel strokes his shoulders. They stay like this until Crowley retreats with a groan. He has no idea how to cope with this situation. It’s only three more days until Friday. Aziraphale puts his hand on Crowley’s cheek.  
“Do you want to stay the night or do you want to go back to your flat?”  
“I should go back. Everything Livi needs is at my flat. You’re coming with me?”  
“Of course, my darling.”  
“Let’s go then, before Livi wakes up.”

Neither of them speaks a word during the ride to Crowley’s flat. The pain is almost palpable in the car, and the Bentley for once stays unnaturally silent. Only the gentle hum of the engine is to be heard. That, and sometimes Lilian snuffling or cooing in her car seat. Back in Crowley’s flat Crowley retreats with Lilian to nurse her. Aziraphale goes to make some tea for them and to prepare a bottle of formula. When he enters the bedroom he swallows hard. Crowley has taken off his sunglasses. Silent tears are streaming down his face, while Lilian feeds on his breast. He has taken to split her meals. She is allowed to start drinking his milk, but after a few minutes he switches to the bottle. Just like he told Anathema and Newt, Lilian is not overly fond of the formula. But since she is still hungry, she drinks the rest of her meal from the bottle. Crowley feels like he is betraying his daughter. But he has no other chance. She has to get used to the formula. 

During the next two days Crowley shortens his nursing more and more. But he’s still producing much milk, and he has to express some of it by hand which is annoying and takes time. But he has no other chance until Lilian is fully switched on formula and he can stop nursing her. 

They both dread Friday. Crowley has already prepared what to take to Tadfield. They had both thought it wouldn’t be that much. In the end it’s a big bag filled with Lilian’s clothes and another one with nappies and plenty of other stuff. Aziraphale has also packed the formula, her bottles and the sterilizing equipment they had to buy. They load everything into the Bentley on Friday morning and drive off to Tadfield. 

The nursery is set up where the guest bedroom had been just a week before. Anathema has painted two walls in a lovely shade of lavender that goes well with the flower pattern of the wallpaper on the others. The big bed is replaced by a crib, matching changing table and a small wardrobe and shelves. A rocking chair is standing in a corner of the nursery next to the window. Aziraphale swallows hard when he takes everything in. It looks lovely. Lilian will love it when she grows up. He turns to Crowley who carries the car seat with Lilian. She is awake and crying. He tries to look neutral. But Aziraphale sees it in the line of his jaw: he is tense like a bow string and worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. 

Anathema watches the couple take everything in.  
“Do you like it?” she asks nervously.  
Aziraphale turns to her and nods, a pained little smile on his face.  
“It’s lovely,” is all he can manage.  
Crowley says nothing. He wants to take his child and just leave again. He can’t. Instead he puts the car seat on the floor and crouches next to it. His agile fingers open the buckle and he lifts Lilian out of the seat.  
“She needs to be changed. Do you want to?” He turns to Anathema. The young woman is surprised, but then nods.  
“Of course.”  
She takes Lilian and carries her over to the changing table.  
“Well, hello, Lilian. Let’s see if we can manage a nappy change, hm? Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ve taken care of many of my nieces and nephews. Let’s try, shall we?”

Crowley watches from two steps away how Anathema goes to work. He feels Aziraphale’s hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. Anathema surely knows what she is doing, she won’t need any help. Crowley turns on his heel and leaves the nursery, a pained expression on his face. Aziraphale is torn: should he follow him? Or does he need some time alone? After a few moments he decides to better take a look if Crowley needs some comfort. Anathema says nothing when he, too, leaves the nursery.

He finds Crowley in front of the cottage, unloading the Bentley.  
“Darling…”  
Crowley doesn’t even look at him. He puts his hands onto the roof of the car, hands balled into fists. Aziraphale sighs.  
“Shouldn’t we be grateful she knows what she’s doing?”  
Crowley growls. “Oh, I am so grateful! Grateful to give my baby away!”  
Aziraphale steps close and hugs Crowley from behind. Crowley closes his eyes. The comfort feels good, but doesn’t take away the pain he knows is to come.  
“Come inside. It’s too cold out here. I don’t want you to catch something.”


	14. Chapter 14

It’s obvious Anathema knows what she’s doing and has experience with babies. Newton is much more hesitant at first, but tries his best. Crowley and Aziraphale don’t have to explain much to them. Lilian seems to like both Anathema and Newton. When she cries, though, it’s still mostly Crowley who can calm her. But it’s only the first days, and throughout the weekend Crowley tries to give up more and more responsibility to Anathema and Newton. He still breastfeeds her, but has reduced her breast meals down to only two during the day and one in the evening so she can sleep better. Aziraphale tries to help Anathema and Newton where ever he can, tells them everything else they need to know. 

Newton has taken two more days off work, but from Wednesday on Anathema is alone with Crowley and Aziraphale. It’s hard for them not to immediately look after Lilian when ever they hear her crying. And most of the time now Anathema is more than able to handle the situation on her own. The most difficult time is during the night. Crowley sleeps on the sofa downstairs, mostly snuggled close to Aziraphale, who has taken to read every book Anathema and Newton own. A week is over before they even realize it. 

Crowley bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. He stares down at Lilian’s face while she nurses on his breast. He knows it’s the last time. She drinks his milk only in the evening now. All her other meals are already formula. Crowley tries to absorb every second of this last feeding. It’s not only this last breast meal. It’s the knowledge that they can leave now. Lilian won’t need his milk anymore. Anathema and Newton can take over and care for her from now on. Crowley is glad Lilian doesn’t know she is going to lose her real parents. She will get wonderful new parents, sure. And they will love her just the same. But Crowley and Aziraphale know the truth. And they will never be able to forget. 

Crowley stays with Lilian for a good while longer simply holding his daughter and trying to just feel her, feel _them_. Like he will never again. He doesn’t have to take his eyes off Lilian to know that Aziraphale is approaching him. He would recognize his steps everywhere and can also smell him.   
“Are you alright, Crowley?” asks the angel tentatively.   
Crowley scoffs. “What do you think, angel? I’ve never been better.”  
Aziraphale swallows. He doesn’t know how to comfort Crowley. He comes over to where Crowley sits in the rocking chair Anathema and Newton have put up in the nursery and sinks to his knees.   
“Give her to me,” he begs. Crowley hands her over without hesitation. Aziraphale sits down cross-legged and rocks his daughter. Lilian is already a little sleepy. Her eyelids slowly droop. Aziraphale waits patiently, until she has fallen asleep. Crowley watches them both, biting one of his nails. The picture of Aziraphale holding his daughter will forever be engraved in his memory.

Eventually Aziraphale gets up and goes over to her bed, but doesn’t lay her down. He looks at her little face. Crowley joins him, standing close to him.   
Aziraphale gathers his courage until he says: “We should go home. Anathema and Newt will be fine. And we will be in touch regularly. We can come back whenever they need our help. But we should have faith in them, don’t you think?”  
Crowley’s heart is hammering against his ribs. His every fibre yells at him not to leave his baby. Even though he knows Anathema and Newton will take good care of Lilian. He has seen them with her, observed them closely. They already adore her and will do whatever it takes to be there for her, to protect her, to care for her and raise her to become a happy little girl.

But all this is something Crowley knows he should do for his baby girl. He should be with her when she has her first tooth. He should be with her when she says her first word, and this word should have been “daddy”. He should be with her, when she takes her first steps. He should comfort her, when she is hurting, he should hold her, when she cries, but he should also be there to celebrate her first birthday, when she starts kindergarten and school. He should laugh with her, play with her, explain the world to her. He can do all these things, but it won’t be the same. He won’t be “daddy”. He will be “uncle Anthony”. And that nearly breaks his demonic joke of a heart…

He feels Aziraphale’s lips on his cheek.   
“I don’t want to leave her, either. But there is no other way. We both know that and we agreed to it,” he whispers against Crowley’s ear.   
“I know. I know that. It just hurts so much…”, answers Crowley. He turns and buries his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder for a moment, trying to breathe evenly and deeply to calm himself. When he lifts his head again, it’s with a deep sigh.   
“I want to say goodbye. I have to,” he whispers pleadingly.   
“And you should.”

Crowley tries to suppress a sob, when he reaches out and caresses Lilian’s cheek very gently. He doesn’t want to wake her.   
“I’m sorry. I love you, Livi. I will always love you. Please forgive me, my darling.” He bends over and kisses her on the forehead, his eyes closing. Oh, it hurts so much! For a second he’s not sure if he can do it. If he can leave her. But then he gathers all his strength and straightens up. He takes a step back and hurries out of the nursery, frantically wiping the tears from his cheeks. Aziraphale knows exactly how Crowley feels. It feels like his heart is breaking, when he carefully lifts Lilian a little. He puts one hand on her head.   
“God bless you, my darling. May god’s love be with you where ever you go.” He kisses her on the forehead just like Crowley has done. His hands are trembling, when he lays her down into her bed. It takes all his strength to tear his eyes away from her, then he leaves the room and flies down the stairs. Crowley is waiting for him at the end of the stairs. 

He reaches out for Aziraphale’s hand. The angel takes it. Together they go into the living room, where Anathema and Newton are sitting on the sofa, cuddled together. They look up, when Aziraphale and Crowley stop a few steps away from them. 

“Anathema - we want to say goodbye. We’re going home,” says Aziraphale, a slight tremor in his voice. He squeezes Crowley’s hand.   
Anathema bites her lip before answering. “Oh… Yes. Of course. Did you… did you already say goodbye?”  
“We did. Crowley has fed her for the last time, and she’s sleeping. We shouldn’t bother you any longer and be on our way.”  
“Are you sure? You can stay for a day longer, if it helps you.”  
Crowleys shakes his head. He feels like he’ll go mad if he doesn’t get out of here as soon as possible.   
“No. We’re leaving. I’ll wait in the car. Goodbye.” He turns and hurries out, leaving Aziraphale standing uncomfortably alone.   
“He’s right. If you could just… Please keep in touch. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to contact us. No matter what you need.”   
“We will.” Anathema makes an attempt to get up, but Aziraphale lifts a hand to stop her.   
“I’ll see myself out. Goodbye, Anathema. Goodbye, Newt. God bless you both for doing this.” Then he turns and leaves as hurriedly as Crowley. 

Crowley is already sitting in the Bentley, engine purring, when Aziraphale gets in.   
“Let’s go home. I can’t stay for one minute longer,” he pleads. Crowley presses his foot down onto the gas, and with a roar the Bentley leaps forward. 

Crowley grips the streering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. He focusses only on the street. Otherwise he would completely lose it. Aziraphale says nothing. He just stares out of the window without seeing anything. Only when Crowley parks the Bentley in front of his apartment building Aziraphale realizes they are back home in London.   
“Oh… we’re already back home…”  
“I didn’t know if you wanted to stay at your place or mine.”  
“Either is fine…” sighs Aziraphale. He hears the snap of Crowley’s fingers, while he gets out of the car but is too distracted to ask himself what Crowley has just miracled. 

It becomes clear to him, when they enter Crowley’s flat. The white leather sofa is back, and Aziraphale knows immediately what Crowley has just done. There will be no trace left of Lilian. A sudden rush of pain takes his breath away for a second. This will do nothing to make things any easier for them. He looks at Crowley who stares into nothing and seems to be lost in his thoughts, not moving a muscle. They both have no clue what to do now. 

When Crowley is able to move again, he has only one thought: go to sleep. Try not to think about it for some blissful hours of unconsciousness.   
“I’m going to bed. You joining me?” he asks. Aziraphale considers for a moment. He will never find the nerve to read something now like he always does when he joins Crowley in bed. But as there is nothing else he can do now he follows him all the same into the bedroom. Crowley changes into an oversized t-shirt and some pyjama bottoms before he crawls under the duvet. Aziraphale just takes off his shoes, then sits down next to him, back against the headboard.   
“Do you think you can sleep?”  
“I really hope so. Can I put my head in your lap?”  
“Of course, dearest. Of course…”   
Crowley doesn’t hesitate. He settles with his head in Aziraphale’s lap, and the angel automatically starts to touch his hair. Crowley closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep. 

Aziraphale leaves the bed early in the morning to make himself a cup of tea while Crowley is still asleep. He drinks it in the kitchen, all alone at the kitchen table. He has taken a look at his mobile, but no message from Anathema or Newton. Well, maybe they have sent one to Crowley. He will have to ask him once he’s awake. When he hears the demon puttering around in the bedroom and then the shower running, Aziraphale prepares the coffee machine for him. He considers making some breakfast, at least some toast and eggs. But he can’t muster up the energy, and Crowley will most certainly not be hungry anyway. And he himself for once has no appetite. 

It’s a surprise, when Aziraphale hears Crowleys footsteps and turns to wish him a good morning. The demon is already dressed - and definitely male again. He’s as lean as he’s always been, his chest flat again, his trousers filled out more in the front, his hair cropped short and perfectly styled. He is in a pair of his skinny jeans, a shirt and a dark cardigan.   
“Morning. Coffee ready?” he asks and saunters past Aziraphale.   
“Good morning…” Aziraphale stares at him. He hasn’t seen Crowley like this in a year. It’s not that he doesn’t like what he sees. He has fallen in love with Crowley presenting as male. The sight is familiar. It’s just weird to see him like this after so many months.   
Crowley can’t ignore Aziraphale staring. 

“What? Lilian is gone. No more need for breasts. I think I won’t go back to a female body in the near future. ’s good to be a man again. Feel much better, too. Stronger.”  
Aziraphale sighs. A coping mechanism, clearly. But he doesn’t say anything about it. He just comes over to Crowley and hugs him. The demon hesitates for a second, but then his arms wrap around Aziraphale, too. But he is tense, clearly feeling unwell and trying to hide it. Aziraphale has the sinking feeling the near future will be more than just a little difficult. 

Crowley receives a text message just before noon telling them Lilian has had a good night and seems to be fine. Crowley sends a short text back to thank Anathema, nothing more. He has no clue what else to text her. 

He and Aziraphale tread carefully around each other throughout the day, barely speaking. The day passes slowly enough until Crowley goes searching for something to drink. It’s the first time for nearly a year that Crowley pours himself a glass of red wine. He has longed for one for months, but now that he is allowed again, he wants to throw the glass against the nearest wall. Because it means Lilian is no longer with him. He stares into his glass, not really seeing anything, until he feels a soft hand on his neck. 

“I miss her, too…” says Aziraphale. His voice sounds hoarse. Has he cried? Crowley turns and looks into the angel’s face. Yes, his eyes are red rimmed. Crowley swallows. There is a big lump in his throat. If he starts crying now, he knows he won’t stop for hours, maybe days. It feels like someone has ripped his heart out of his chest. His heart, that should never be able to feel this much love. What a stupid, foolish heart…

Crowley snaps his fingers for a second wine glass and fills it. Then he offers it to Aziraphale.   
“Here. Get pissed with me. No sobering up tonight.”  
Aziraphale takes the glass, not hesitating for a second. They both take a big gulp, before Aziraphale pulls Crowley into the living room to the sofa. 

They wake the next morning with a terrible hangover that leaves them both grumpy and miserable. Crowley checks his mobile. No new message from Anathema. They seem to do well in Tadfield. Crowley knows he should be glad that there are no problems. He isn’t. He’s not needed in Lilian’s life anymore. He wants to drink again, no matter how terrible his headache is. Aziraphale keeps him from it. For today. 

He opens his shop the next day, and when he comes to Crowley’s flat he finds it empty. He calls Crowley on his mobile to find that the demon has in fact driven back to Tadfield to see how they are doing. Aziraphale is at a loss what to do and begs him to come back home immediately. He paces the flat for the next hour until Crowley is home. He wants to reprimand him, but can’t bring himself to do it. Crowley looks horrible. So Aziraphale takes him in his arms, fearing Crowley could break down every minute. He doesn’t, but is trembling violently in his embrace. Aziraphale hopes this was just an exception. 

When Aziraphale comes home from his shop the next evening the demon is already passed out on the bed, a nice collection of bottles lined up on the bedside table. The room reeks of booze. Aziraphale opens the window. He would very much like to yell at Crowley. But he knows the morning will be nothing but horrible for him, so he just collects the empty bottles and brings them down to the bins. 

As it turns out Anathema has sent a voice message and a bunch of photos which Crowley shows him the next morning. Aziraphale understands why Crowley has felt the need to put himself out of his misery with this ridiculous amount of alcohol. He calls Anathema to thank her for the message and the photos. They talk for a while, but the conversation does nothing to make anything easier. Anathema and Newton seem to do fine without Aziraphale and Crowley. This may be reassuring. But on the other hand it’s disappointing to hear they are not needed in Tadfield. Nevertheless Crowley starts to invent excuses to call Anathema during the following days or send her texts or voice messages. Aziraphale understands why he does it. But he knows this can backfire very badly. And of course it does. 

Another unexpected visit from Crowley to Tadfield on Saturday doesn’t make things any less tense. Aziraphale has begged Crowley to accompany him for a stroll to St. James’s Park and after that lunch somewhere. He fears he will go mad if they only stay in the flat. But nothing he has said could convince Crowley to come with him, so Aziraphale has left him - and has regretted it after just 30 minutes. But nevertheless he enjoys being among other people. And he has missed his strolls through the streets of London which are now in December busy with people preparing for Christmas. 

The thought about Christmas sends another pang of guilt through his heart. Lilian should have spent her first Christmas with them… Aziraphale considers if they should buy Christmas presents for Lilian, Anathema and Newton. He doesn’t see any reason why they shouldn’t, and after his stroll through St. James’s Park he makes his way to Hamleys on Regent Street. But before he can enter the toy store, the mobile in his coat pocket chimes. It’s Anathema, telling him Crowley is sitting in her kitchen. Aziraphale turns on his heel to flag down a cab. 

“Crowley, it’s nothing personal. We appreciate your care and everything you want to do to help. But you have to give us the chance to really grow into it. You wanted us to care for Lilian. Now let us do exactly this. On our own,” Anathema begs. She sits opposite Crowley and Aziraphale at the kitchen table. Aziraphale has made a cab driver very happy today, paying him a more than generous tip to take him out to Tadfield. He’s holding Crowley’s hand under the table, trying to reassure him and comfort him. 

Crowley feels a pain in his chest that nearly chokes him.   
“You want us to keep our distance,” he croaks.   
“For some time, yes. We have to get settled. And I think it will be best for Lilian, if she has the chance to really get accustomed just to us as her parents. It confuses her to have you, too, around her.”  
Crowley lowers his head. Aziraphale is speechless. But he understands why Anathema is concerned. He grips his hand a little tighter. The demon’s fingers wind around Aziraphale’s in a death grip. 

“So you want us to stay in London for some time. For how long?” he asks, voice only a little shaky.   
“We were thinking about three months. That doesn’t mean we wouldn’t been in touch. We can speak every few days. We would tell you everything important. But we must have the chance to grow together as a family.”

A family… Crowley closes his eyes. He feels like he is stabbed in the heart. He is not part of this family. His daughter belongs to another family now. Oh Satan… If he had known how much pain he would have to endure… maybe he should have ended the pregnancy… But this is only a fleeting thought. Bullshit! This whole mess isn’t Lilian’s fault. She is not the one who willingly created it. It was Crowley himself. 

“Anathema is right, darling. We have to give them the chance to bond,” Aziraphale says quietly although his heart aches just as much as Crowley’s does.   
“I know that! I just wanted to see, if… if they need anything.”  
“They would have called us. And of course we’ll respect your wish. It’s only reasonable. And we shouldn’t bother you anymore today. Let’s go home, my dear.”

Crowley has no other chance but to follow Aziraphale to the Bentley. Aziraphale doesn’t say anything on the way back to London, and Crowley doesn’t dare to say anything at all. He can feel Aziraphale is cross with him, and that makes him even more miserable. Plus he hasn’t even seen Lilian today. Anathema had refused to let him. He feels like his heart could break any minute. He has no clue how Aziraphale manages not to freak out. Doesn’t he feel the same? 

It’s only when they are near the city centre, that Aziraphale talks for the first time after they have left Tadfield.   
“You’ll better stay at my place for the next days. This way I’ll be there when you need me. Are you okay with that?”  
Crowley swallows hard, but then nods and changes his direction to drive to Soho.


	15. Chapter 15

Three days later. Just like the days before Crowley lies curled in on himself on the sofa in the bookshop. He is a picture of misery. Even if Aziraphale would want to sell some of his books to his customers, he wouldn’t be able now, once they have spotted Crowley lying there. Crowley’s such a miserable sight that everyone who sees him immediately leaves again. Crowley doesn’t care. Fuck customers. Aziraphale doesn’t even want them here. Fuck the whole world. He shouldn’t have saved it in the first place. Should have left to Alpha Centauri when he had the chance. Then nothing of this mess would have happened. 

After the forth customer for today has left again in a hurry Aziraphale locks the shop up and goes to talk to Crowley.  
“Dearest, you can’t just lie here all day and scare off everybody who comes in.”  
“Why not? It’s not like you want to sell one your precious books, anyway.”  
“But you… can’t you do something? Is there nothing you would like to do? Besides lie somewhere?”  
“And what would that be? I am unemployed. I am bored. I have no purpose anymore. All I want is to go to sleep for at least a decade. Maybe that’s what I should do.”  
Aziraphale tuts. “I haven’t heard something this stupid from you for a century.”

Crowley stays silent for a moment, but then he abruptly sits up.  
“So I’m stupid. Good to know. If that’s how you really think of me, then maybe I should leave now. I don’t want to spoil your precious days with my stupidity and laziness.”  
He is on his feet in an instant, and Aziraphale is so shocked that it takes him a moment to realize what Crowley is about to do. He is grabbing for his scarf and coat.  
“What do you think you’re doing, Crowley?!”  
“Leave! I thought you wanted me here. But since it seems you changed your mind about me, I might as well do as I please and sleep for a few years!” Crowley glares at him through his dark glasses. 

“You will do nothing like that! You won’t leave me here to deal with my grief and my sorrow all on my own! We’re in this together! If you need my help, if you want to talk, then please tell me so! If you feel like crying, then cry! But don’t shut yourself away, because it will not help you! Even if you sleep for a decade, the pain will still be there when you wake up! And on top you will have missed years of your daughter’s life! And these years will never come back! You might have been able to stop time, you are not able to reverse it! If you leave me now and sleep for a decade, then you will be a stranger to Lilian! Do you want that? Hm?” 

Aziraphale comes closer while he talks. He stares at Crowley with grim determination, and Crowley steps back from him, feeling intimidated and - ashamed. Because Aziraphale is right. He could go to sleep for years. And will miss vital and important parts of Lilian’s life. He can’t be her daddy. But if he wastes the chance to be her godfather… He would never forgive himself if he did something this stupid. He stands still, looks at Aziraphale and is torn between fleeing and bursting into tears. 

“Look at me, Crowley. Look at me and tell me what you see. Go on! What do you see? Do I look like I am happy? Do I look like I used to? You know me better than anybody else ever has. Look at me and tell me I am not grieving! Look at me and dare tell me that I don’t care about our child!” Aziraphale blinks away the tears that are again threatening to spill over. He has cried so much already, he is so tired of it.  
“You are so much stronger than me, Aziraphale! I’m not that strong! I feel so fragile, I fear I could break and shatter into a million pieces! It hurts so much, and I fear it will never stop hurting! Can’t you understand?” Crowley is fighting against his own tears.  
“I am not stronger than you! I try to be strong for you! Because I see how much you suffer. I see the agony you’re in! But if I break, too…” He can’t finish his sentence. He stumbles over to the sofa and falls onto it. He buries his face in his hands and begins to sob. 

Crowley bites his lip until he tastes blood. He has never seen Aziraphale this devastated. Unfortunately he has no clue what to do. He is not good at comforting others. He lets coat and scarf fall to the floor and takes a tentative step forward.  
“Angel…”, he whispers. Aziraphale shakes his head, but doesn’t look up. He turns away from him, and that is something that hurts even more and Crowley can’t stand it.  
“Angel, I’m sorry!” He rushes back to the sofa, sits down and embraces him from behind. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said all this. I don’t want to leave you. But it breaks my heart that we had to let her go. And I have no idea how to cope with that.”

He feels the angel shaking and presses his cheek against his shoulder.  
“Please stop crying… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t… Please…” He can’t stop his own tears from falling. His fingers dig deep into Aziraphale’s chest where he is hugging him. They stay like this for a while until finally Aziraphale calms down a little. He retreats from Crowley’s embrace and wipes his face with a handkerchief. Crowley just sits there, shoulders slumped forward. He is so damn tired… 

They can’t look at each other for several minutes. Aziraphale still sniffles, tries to regain his composure. He’s torn. He doesn’t want to be alone, doesn’t want Crowley to be alone. But at the same time he can’t stand how Crowley behaves at the moment. He knows he doesn’t do it on purpose, doesn’t want to annoy Aziraphale. It’s just that his behavior reflects what Aziraphale feels and wants to do but can’t bring himself to. He just can’t let himself down like this. He tries to be strong for the both of them. But even his strength and his will are starting to crumble. 

“What do we do now? We can’t go on like this,” Aziraphale says.  
Crowley shakes his head. He puts his glasses into his breast pocket and rubs his face with both hands.  
“I don’t know. What _can_ we do? Apart from giving Anathema and Newt time to form a family with our daughter…”  
“We… we should try to remember what’s important about us. You and me. Our relationship. Our past. Our love.”  
“You know I still love you, yes?” Crowley looks at him, sniffs a little.  
A small sad smiles curls Aziraphale’s lips. “My darling, I can feel your love for me. Don’t forget that. And I love you just as much. Please know that. My love for you won’t change.”  
“Promise me, angel?”  
“I swear. We just have to try and remember.”  
Crowley nods. “I want to. I want us.”

Aziraphale reaches out for him, and Crowley takes his hand. He lifts it to his face and kisses Aziraphale’s palm, before he places it on his cheek. Aziraphale looks at him with so much tenderness that new tears start to form in Crowley’s eyes, but he blinks them away. Aziraphale caresses Crowley’s cheekbone with his soft thumb.  
“I want that, too. Let’s go out for dinner tonight and try for once not to cry.”  
Crowley can’t smile back, but he nods. “Sounds good to me.”

They try. They really do. It’s hard not to talk about Lilian and not to think about her all the time. It’s exhausting for both of them. After a few days Crowley feels like he can spend his nights in his flat again without feeling the need to drink himself into oblivion. He has agreed to spend Christmas with Aziraphale. They have never spent Christmas together, so this will be something entirely new. And he can’t bring himself to deny Aziraphale his wish. But with every passing day his thoughts more and more return to Lilian, and the longing to see her is hard to overcome. The only hours he can ignore this need is when he is with Aziraphale. 

Crowley crouches on the railing of his balcony. He grabs the cold stone with both his hands, balancing himself with his wings out. He stares up into the night sky, his face burning from the icy wind, his eyes prickling with tears. His feathers are ruffled from the breeze, his hair a tangled mess. Tadfield ist only an hour flight away. He has been thinking about this for hours now. He so desperately wants to see Lilian, but he knows it would be stupid to fly to Tadfield. He would hurt himself even more if he does this now. He should call Aziraphale. He has promised to talk to him when something is wrong. He can’t bring himself to call him. 

Suddenly Crowley stands up. He spreads his wings wide, makes himself big. He hasn’t flown in such a long time… He looks down at the pavement. If he doesn’t make it, his discorporation will hopefully be quick and not too painful. His heart is racing. But then he jumps - and falls. He starts to move his arms and legs, opens his mouth to scream. And then his body seems to take over. His wings catch the wind, and with only a few mighty flaps of his wings he flies up into the night sky. Now he does scream, but only in pure relief. Oh, this feels like nothing else! Yes, it’s fucking cold. But he can still fly, and it feels good. Some of his dark thoughts vanish with every flap of his wings - toward Tadfield. He can’t stop himself. It’s as if he couldn’t last a day longer without seeing Lilian. 

The first joy over his first flight in many, many centuries slowly dissolves with every mile he flies. The cold returns and is biting into his flesh. He shivers, but flies on nonetheless. But since he hasn’t used his wings in so many years, even his supernatural strength fails him after a while. Still he carries on. His desire to see Lilian is strong enough to keep him going. Finally he has reached Tadfield and approaches Jasmine cottage. His landing is not even a proper landing. He falls the last few meters and stumbles until he has caught himself. Then he looks over to the cottage. The lights are on, of course. The house is decorated with lights and decorations, a big Christmas wreath hangs on the front door. It’s Christmas Day, the 25th of December. Lilian is experiencing her first Christmas with her new parents. Not him… 

He carefully approaches the cottage until he is only a few meters away and peers through the windows, hidden by some trees and the darkness of the early night. And then he sees them. There is a Christmas tree in the living room, sparkling in the dim light. Newton is standing right next to it. He is holding Lilian and pointing at the Christmas tree, even though she is of course much to small to have the slightest understanding what Christmas is. Crowley can see Newton’s smile, and his heart aches so much he even forgets the bloody chill.

That’s when his phone buzzes and chimes in a familiar melody in his trouser pocket: Aziraphale. His fingers are so cold he barely manages to take the call.  
“Darling, where are you? You wanted to be here half an hour ago. Did something important come up?”  
“A-angel…” he answers with chattering teeth. And remembers: they had talked about spending the evening together. He had forgotten…  
“Crowley, what’s wrong? Where are you?” Aziraphale is immediately alert.  
“T-Tadf-field.”  
“Tadfield?! We talked about this. We agreed to let Anathema and Newt celebrate Christmas with Lilian on their own.”  
“I… I know.”  
“Please don’t do something stupid and come home!”  
“C-can’t.”  
“Why? Just get into your car and come home. Please, I’m worried!”  
“D-don’t have t-t-the Bent-Bentley. Flew over…”

It only takes Aziraphale a heartbeat to put the pieces together. Crowley sounds horrible, barely able to form complete sentences.  
“Oh god, darling! Can you fly back here?”  
“Too cold. And tired.”  
Aziraphale sighs. “Okay… there is only two options. The first is: you go to Anathema and Newt and knock. They won’t send you away, but they won’t be pleased that we broke our agreement at the first opportunity. The better option is the small bed and breakfast in town. I hope they are open during the holiday season. Please go there, take a room, get warm and wait for me. Can you do that for me, Crowley?”  
Crowley closes his eyes for a second. Then he nods to himself. “I-if you think i-it’s for the b-best…”  
“I really do. So please, get a room. I’ll be with you as soon as possible.”  
“Okay.”  
“Don’t do anything stupid, darling. I’ll be with you as fast as I can.”

Aziraphale practically runs out of the bookshop, grabbing just his scarf on his way out. He won’t be able to get a cab. Not now, not today. Soho is not the best place to spread your wings nobody knows about and to fly up into the night sky - not even on Christmas Day. He hurries through the streets, searching for a dark spot to fly off from. Behind one of the theaters nearby he finds a dark alley. It will be a little tricky to spread his wings and gain enough momentum to leave the ground, but he has to risk it. With a big swoosh Aziraphale manifests his wings, shakes them out and is glad he can spread them wide enough to flap them. He doesn’t hesitate anymore, flaps his wings with all his might and leaves the ground. He counts on the fact that most people rarely look up into the sky without a reason and that there are only few left on the streets. It feels both amazing and terrifying to fly again. The cold wind is biting into his skin, but he ignores it. He tries to orient himself and flies off toward Tadfield. 

Crowley shoves his mobile back into his pocket with trembling hands. He knows Aziraphale is right. He should leave now, go find the bed and breakfast they hadn’t wanted to stay in after the incidents on Tadfield airbase and get a room. He just can’t bring himself to go. Once again he looks over to the cottage. Anathema has joined Newton and Lilian in the living room. She has a little toy in one hand, Lilian is grabbing for it. Crowley is frozen in place. He can’t move. He just can’t. Every glimpse he can take of this family life breaks his heart, but he can’t take his eyes off it, either. His icy hands ball into fists, his nails piercing the skin of his palms. He doesn’t feel it - not the pain, not the blood slowly dripping from his fists onto the ground. 

Aziraphale follows his instinct that tells him not to fly straight to the bed and breakfast. And it turns out he is right to do so. When he lands near Jasmine cottage he stumbles a little and knows he will feel this hurried flight for quite some time. He looks around for Crowley. His heart skips a beat, when he sees him hidden behind some trees, his wings pulled around him like a cloak to shield him from the cold. Aziraphale tucks his wings away and makes them disappear, then he hurries over to Crowley. 

“Darling - you are still here. I told you to go to the bed and breakfast.” He doesn’t hesitate to touch Crowley’s wings. The demon turns toward him. He’s pale as a sheet and shivering violently.  
“My god… let’s go. Come. Oh Crowley, how can you be this unreasonable…” Aziraphale puts an arm around him and leads him away from the cottage. He catches a glimpse of the family life inside the light warmth of the cottage, and he feels an excruciating pain in his chest. But he focusses on Crowley next to him. 

“My dear, you have to make your wings disappear. Can you do that for me?”  
Crowley groans. He shudders, he’s tired and freezing, but he manages to let his wings disappear. Aziraphale’s arm stays around his middle. They find the bed and breakfast and thank someone that it is open. Aziraphale is the one to do the talking. But it’s Christmas, they don’t have any luggage, they seem frozen and the landlord of the B&B is a little suspicious. It needs a minor miracle to convince him that everything is perfectly fine with them, and then they get a room for the night. Aziraphale leads Crowley up the stairs and into their room. It’s a small, cozy double room. 

“Let’s get you under a warm shower and then into bed. Let me help you,” Aziraphale says and unbuttons Crowley’s jacket. When he tries to help him out of it, he sees Crowley’s bloody fists.  
“Oh my dear, what happened?” He gently pries his hands open and nearly sobs. The small wounds look like half moons, but have long since stopped bleeding. He runs his fingertips over Crowley’s palms and heals the pierced skin. Crowley is still shivering violently, and his skin is terribly cold where ever Aziraphale touches him while undressing. He leads him to the bathroom and starts the shower. 

“Alright - in you get.” But Crowley barely responds. And because he is cold, too, Aziraphale hurriedly sheds his own clothes and pulls Crowley with him under the warm spray of water. He holds him for a while, washes his hair and kisses him again and again. When he has the feeling that Crowley feels a little better he turns off the water, rubs them both dry and they crawl into bed. Aziraphale pulls Crowley close.

It takes a while until Crowley murmurs: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid.”  
“It was. What did you think you were doing? We talked about it. We agreed to Anathema’s and Newt’s conditions. I miss Lilian, too. But if we cock this up, we have a serious problem. We depend on them.”  
“I know…” Crowley groans.  
“Why did you come here in the first place?”  
“I missed her so much. I just wanted to see her.”  
“Don’t you think I miss her, too? It breaks my heart to know that our little girl is not with us. But we have to get used to it.”  
“I don’t think I will ever get used to it, and thinking about it I don’t want to.”  
Aziraphale can feel tension build in Crowley’s body.  
“How do you do this? How can you live like you always did? One could think you don’t even care about her!” Crowley retreats from Aziraphale’s arms now. He scoots to the edge of the bed and sits up, hugging himself with his arms. 

The angel swallows. He shakes his head. “That’s what you think of me, then… Good to know, Crowley.” He sounds terribly hurt. But Crowley can’t stop himself.  
“I just wonder which damn trick you use! I feel like I am torn to pieces, and you open your bookshop, you talk and laugh with your bloody customers as if nothing had happened! We have a child, Zira, and this child is two miles away with her new parents we chose for her, and she will never know who we truly are! All I want is my baby, but I can’t care for it! I can’t be there for her, and that makes me want to scream and tear this whole damned town to pieces!”  
“Will you please keep it down? I don’t want us to be thrown out because we are fighting.”  
“Are we fighting? You don’t seem interested even in an argument with me!”

“You have no idea, Crowley. No idea…” Aziraphale turns his back to Crowley, pulls the duvet over his shoulders and fights the tears that are threatening to spill over.  
“Then tell me! Bloody tell me, so I can understand!”  
“You want to understand?” Aziraphale turns around again and sits up, too. 

“You really do think you love her more than I do, do you? You think since you were the one that grew her in his body and gave birth to her you love her more. You’re wrong, Crowley! I love her just as much as you do. But I wanted to be strong. For your. For Lilian. I only wanted what’s best for her. I know it breaks your heart. But it breaks mine, too! I thought, if I only was strong enough for both of us, you would be able to let her go. And you think I don’t love her enough? That hurts so much, Crowley, I thought you knew me better!” 

Crowley stares at him, guilt bubbling up inside him. Yes, he should have known him better. He should have known Aziraphale would act like this. He has already done so much for Crowley, for his sake, and of course for Lilian’s sake. He’s an angel. He’s not selfish, not egoistic, would do anything in his might to help others and make others happy. He has never let Crowley down since they became a couple. And Crowley is ashamed. He feels heat rising in his cheeks. He wants to reach out for Aziraphale, but doesn’t dare. There it is again. The feeling of being not worthy. The knowledge that he will never do anything right. The certainty that he has disappointed Aziraphale and let him down. The dark, hollow place deep inside his soul that he thought had been filled with light threatens to darken again, isolated from the light. The light that had been a blond, kind, soft angel. The light that had been a principality called Aziraphale. 

Crowley bites his lip until he tastes blood. He feels lost. Like just after his fall. His world threatens to turn. Again. Well, one could say that after 6.000 years it might be time for a change. But not under these circumstances. Not when you just got together with the love of your life. Not when you just had a baby and had to give it away so that it can have a normal life. 

Aziraphale looks at Crowley and can see that something is happening. Crowley’s face is… there is something that makes Aziraphale regret his words immediately. He swallows.  
“Crowley… I’m sorry I shouted,” he whispers, trying to make eye contact. Crowley avoids his gaze.  
“No… you have every right to. I know I am a mess. Always was. I never did anything right. Always got into trouble. Always had a bad judgement. Hung out with the wrong people. Asked too many questions. Doubted everything. There is a reason why I fell. I was never good enough as an angel but neither as a demon. I was always a disappointment. For Her. For you…” Crowley’s voice is small and hoarse. He sounds defeated. Tired. Hurt. To no end. 

“My darling, no… No, you didn’t disappoint me.”  
“I did. That’s what I always do. To everyone.”  
Aziraphale sighs, shakes his head. He wants to say so much, wants to convince Crowley how important he is to him. He doesn’t find the words. The only words that find him are: “I love you.”  
Crowley hears these three words, like balm to his wounded heart. But can love always be the answer? He’s not sure anymore. He had been. Where has his belief gone?

He hears the rustling of fabric, and then Aziraphale’s bare arms wind around his chest. They don’t say a thing. Crowley just feels himself gradually relax into Aziraphale’s embrace. At some point he is able to lift a hand to put it over one of Aziraphale’s. He allows himself to be pulled back down on the mattress. Aziraphale pulls him close, spoons him, just holds him. They stay like this for a while. 

“I love you…” whispers Aziraphale, then kisses the soft spot right beneath Crowley’s ear. A shiver runs down Crowley’s spine. He has always been ticklish at this spot.  
“How do you do that?”  
“Loving you is easy. I’m an angel. And you are the best that ever happened to me.”  
Crowley scoffs. “I doubt that.”  
“But it’s true. I wouldn’t be here with you if you weren’t.”  
Crowley doesn’t know what to say. All he wants is to wake up from this nightmare. If only it was a dream… 

They fall silent. The only sound is the soft rise and fall of their breathing. Aziraphale’s warmth and the solid weight of his arms around him make Crowley sleepy. His eyes are closing even if he doesn’t want them to. Aziraphale is like a therapy blanket. He holds Crowley, warms him, gives him safety. Crowley’s mind goes blank, his body relaxes, he falls asleep. Aziraphale doesn’t move, apart from the snap of his fingers to cover them with a blanket. He stays awake the whole night while Crowley sleeps and tries not to think. He’s not very good at not thinking. So he tries to remember all the encounters he and Crowley had throughout the millennia.


	16. Chapter 16

Crowley stirs when the sun rises. It’s about eight in the morning. He is still lying in Aziraphale’s arms, hasn’t moved an inch during the night. They skip breakfast. Aziraphale manages to hire a car that brings them back to London. What a shitty Christmas… They go up to Aziraphale’s flat and have coffee, still silent. None of them has said more than a handful of words. When Aziraphale opens his fridge to put the milk back, Crowley catches a glimpse of an assortment of delicatessen Aziraphale had bought for Christmas. He swallows. They had planned a quiet evening together, and Crowley had ruined it. Guilt washes over him. Maybe they shouldn’t try to be too human. There is never anything good coming out of it… 

During the day there is a strange tension building between them. At some point Aziraphale makes tea and later on empties his fridge of all the things that were bought especially for a first Christmas dinner that never happened but have to be eaten nonetheless. Crowley only picks at the assortment of cheese, ham, little hearty or sweet pastries, grapes and berries. He completely avoids the sea food. Never has been one for sea food. He doesn’t like shrimps and he never developed a liking for oysters, no matter how hard Aziraphale had tried to convince him otherwise. 

In the end Aziraphale opens a bottle of a very good Chateau petrus and pours them both a glass. To avoid more awkward silence the angel turns on the telly and starts Netflix. Crowley has gifted him with both and he is the one who uses it most. Aziraphale still prefers a book. But not today. He starts browsing, every now and then asking Crowley if he would like to watch this or that and finally starts A Street Cat Named Bob, even though Crowley rolls his eyes at the choice.

The film is not that bad, the red tomcat is charming, the story heartwarming. But Crowley keeps his eyes trained on Aziraphale. Aziraphale seems to relax watching the movie and is concentrated only on the proceedings on screen. While Crowley is mostly watching Aziraphale. He has never tired of watching him and is sure he never will. Aziraphale has such an expressive face. Every emotion is displayed openly. Crowley has seen so many ranges of emotion on Aziraphale’s face, he knows them all by heart. If only he wouldn’t look so heartbroken like Crowley himself feels… He never wanted his angel to look like that. 

Crowley forces his gaze away from Aziraphale back to the screen, but can’t concentrate on the movie. His eyes wander around, take in this cluttered and yet cozy living room of Aziraphale’s flat. Books everywhere, of course. But also an assortment of little things. Souvenirs. Keepsakes. From all over the world, from all times. Crowley remembers some of the occurrences, for others he hadn’t been present. There had always been times when they haven’t seen each other for decades or even a century. But they always met again: sometimes ran into each other by coincidence, sometimes had made arrangements. But it had always been as if they orbited around each other. 

Crowley sighs, looks back at Aziraphale. They have always been drawn to each other, no matter how hard Aziraphale has tried to deny that deep down he had liked the demon from the very start. Laughing together is, just like Oscar Wilde once said, certainly not a bad beginning for a friendship. Crowley still remembers this first time they met still in vivid detail. A little smile curls around his lips. Back then he had never dared to think they would eventually end up like this: together on Aziraphale’s sofa above a centuries old book shop. He is glad they are together like this. Took them long enough. Only the latest events… will cause more bad memories than even the 14th century could. 

Are there tears shimmering in Aziraphale’s eyes? That sentimental old sap is really into this movie now. While Crowley would like to crawl into Aziraphale’s lap, close his eyes and just enjoy his presence and his attention on him. He would like to feel Aziraphale’s hands carding through his hair. He would like to feel them glide over the skin of his neck, feel his Adam’s Apple bob when he swallows around the lump of affection in his throat. He would like to feel how they wander over the smooth fabric of his shirt and beneath it, the soft touch to one of his nipples, his warm breath ghosting over his cheek and his soft voice asking him: “Can I?” Always one for asking, the angel. He would never do something Crowley’s not on board with. But that was always mutual. When they had started being intimate, there had been a lot of asking: _Is this okay? Are you alright? Can I touch you here? How do you feel? Do you want to take this off? May I kiss you there? What do you need?_

Thinking about it Crowley feels warm. They had both been a little anxious at first, but looking back waiting for six millennia had been worth the wait. Crowley scoots a little closer to Aziraphale, not paying any attention anymore to the tomcat and his owner on the screen of Aziraphale’s telly. But instead of just leaning into him, Crowley lies down with his head in Aziraphale’s lap, facing the angel. And just like he hoped, Aziraphale’s hand lands on his shoulder and wanders up over his neck and into his hair. Crowley sighs and tries to relax. He lifts a hand to touch the buttons of Aziraphale’s waistcoat. How often has someone stitched them back on? The fabric is so worn already, it’s a miracle that Aziraphale can still wear it. Crowley smiles. Aziraphale’s fingers in his hair feel so good… 

For the first time in more than a year Crowley experiences the former familiar feeling of having a cock - and a hardening one, that is. He licks his lips. Hell… Has it always felt like this to get an erection? And isn’t it inappropriate to get one now? He has given his child away, he is still grieving the loss. But fuck appropriate, it feels good to feel something else but pain. Because that is all he has felt the last weeks. He shifts a little, feels his cock swell more. Aziraphale is so warm, so close, his scent filling Crowley’s nostrils. His hand that has played with the buttons very gently slips the undermost button free of its hole. Aziraphale doesn’t react. The next buttons follow over the next few minutes until the waistcoat is finally open and allows Crowley to feel the smooth soft fabric of the cream coloured dress shirt Aziraphale is wearing and the warmth and softness of his body underneath. 

Crowley shifts again, does not dare to pull at the fabric of his tight trousers over the swell of his erection, but feels a little twitch beneath his head and the slight swell of Aziraphale’s cock. Oh. Maybe the angel is up to some intimacy. A little distraction would be more than welcome for Crowley. 

So he gets a little bolder, letting his delicate fingers dance over Aziraphale’s shirt front. He’s not wearing his bow tie, they haven’t been out after all, so no need for the bow tie. Strange enough Crowley would like to loosen this bow tie now and slowly pull it from Aziraphale’s neck. As a suggestion and an offer. But since Aziraphale isn’t wearing it, Crowley instead slowly opens the first two buttons of the angel’s shirt. He moves a fingertip over the exposed warm skin, dipping into the v of the shirt front. It seems to do the trick. Crowley feels another twitch beneath his head. But then Aziraphales puts his hand over Crowley’s. He pulls it from his chest and up to his lips, presses a gentle kiss to his knuckles and then just holds it. 

Crowley hesitates. Should he leave it? But he decides to try again. Now it’s him who pulls Aziraphale’s hand to his own lips. He slightly opens his mouth and runs the soft tip of Aziraphale’s finger over his lips, lets it feel the soft, wet seam of the inside of his mouth. Aziraphale’s breath hitches for a moment, but he doesn’t pull away. He does react, though, when Crowley sucks his fingertip into his mouth and lets the tip of his tongue play over the slightly salty skin.

“Crowley, darling, you’re distracting me…” he says with only a hint of reprimand.   
“That’s the point”, answers Crowley around Aziraphale’s finger and looks up at him. His golden eyes seem to glow in the dim light of the living room. Aziraphale swallows visibly, when he looks down and sees Crowley’s now forked tongue curling around his finger.   
“We are watching a movie,” Aziraphale reminds him, but it’s not really convincing.   
“We can pause it any time we like.”  
Crowley pushes his head down a little to press the back of his head into Aziraphale semi-hard cock.   
“Crowley…”  
“Yes?”  
“I’m not sure if this is a good idea.”  
Crowley gently sucks on Aziraphale’s fingertip, suggesting a very different activity. When he lets Aziraphale’s finger glide out of his mouth, he begs: “Come on, angel, we haven’t done this in months. And it’s been a year since I was a man. I miss you. I miss our sex life like it was before.”   
“I’m not in the mood, darling.”

Not in the mood? Crowley can’t let that stand as it is. But right this second he realizes how true his own words are and how hard he already is in his trousers. It feels good. And he wants to feel good again, if only for an hour of love making… 

Crowley _might_ use a very minor temptation. Not a real miracle, the angel would notice. But a little temptation is allowed, is it? He has never done this to Aziraphale. He never had to. Today is different. He needs it. Needs it so badly! And if he has to tempt Aziraphale into a state of desire for him, then he will do it. 

He reaches up, gently touches Aziraphale’s cheek and looks up at him with hooded eyes, licks his lips in a way he knows his angel likes, leaves his lips open and shifts again to get closer. Then he turns his head and nuzzles against Aziraraphale’s belly, breathes his warm, humid breath through the thin fabric. He feels Aziraphale shiver.  
“Please, darling…” Aziraphale breathes.   
“Please what, angel? Please don’t stop?”  
“I… oh…” Aziraphale feels Crowley’s hand glide from his cheek to his shirt front again and allows him to open more of his shirt buttons. And then Crowley’s hand pushes the fabric aside. His lips press against Aziraphale’s skin. He sighs. The scent… the texture… the warmth… It feels amazing, and he is able to forget all his sorrows for the moment. This is what he needs now. 

Aziraphale’s hand lands on Crowley’s flank, gripping the soft fabric of his dark shirt and bunches it up in his fist. His breath comes a little faster now. This shouldn’t feel so good. Why has his mood changed so abruptly? But suddenly all he needs is Crowley: his strong, yet gentle touch, his firm lips, his lean body. His hand slides from his flank to Crowley’s trousers, cups the swell of his hard erection. Crowley moans against Aziraphale’s belly. Oh yes… He pushes his hips into Aziraphale’s hand. That’s what he needs now. And is glad that Aziraphale responds like he hoped he would. 

With a fluid motion he is up and straddling Aziraphale’s hips. Aziraphale looks up at him, his hands immediately on Crowley’s sides, pushing the fabric of his shirt up. Crowley lifts his arms. Aziraphale takes his shirt off and throws it aside. His gaze wanders over Crowley’s upper body. He was so used to Crowley’s soft breasts that it’s actually strange to see him without them. The sparse dark reddish chest hair suddenly fascinates Aziraphale to no end. His dusky nipples are already hard and pebbled. Aziraphale can’t resist a second longer. He closes his lips around the left nipple. Crowley throws his head back. It feels so different and yet so familiar! 

Aziraphale’s eyes are closed, he is concentrated on his demon’s pleasure and his own which is growing steadily inside his trousers. He thrusts his hips up a little to get more friction. Crowley above him moans. He frantically tries to open his trousers to free his cock. He can’t push his jeans down enough, wriggles impatiently on Aziraphale’s lap.   
Aziraphale gives a last suck to Crowley’s nipple, before he lets go. “Hush, darling… let me help… Lift your hips for me.”  
Crowley does, but it’s still not enough. He snaps his fingers and is suddenly gloriously naked against Aziraphale, who is still wholly dressed. It feels amazingly filthy, and he likes that. He is up the same second and on his knees on the sofa, both hands on the backrest of it. He spreads his legs a little more, and Aziraphale gasps. 

“Need you, angel. Need you know”, he begs, looking over his shoulder in a what he hopes suggestive and seductive manner. Aziraphale lifts his hand to snap his own clothes off, but Crowley stops him.  
“No. Like this. Just take your cock out. Please…”  
Aziraphale is flushed, but obeys. He opens his trousers and pushes them down enough to let his hard and leaking cock spring free. How did he get turned on so much? But he is. Looking at Crowley’s sinewy back, his lean muscles and his freckled skin makes him hot and tingly all over.   
“Do you need me to…” he asks, but Crowley shakes his head. When he had snapped away his clothes he has made sure to open himself up and to be wet enough to take Aziraphale’s cock without too much discomfort.   
“No. Prepared myself. Do it, angel, I’m all yours.”

Aziraphale can’t resist a second longer. He steps behind him, grips Crowley’s hip with one hand and pulls him more towards him, while he lines himself up with the other hand. He groans, when the head of his cock slips into the welcoming heat of Crowley’s tight hole. He has to stop himself for a second. He had forgotten how good this feels. Crowley closes his eyes to the welcome intrusion. This is so intense! But he needs more, so he slowly pushes himself back and onto Aziraphale’s cock. The both have to catch their breath, when Aziraphale is balls deep into Crowley’s body. Then Aziraphale backs away until only the head of his cock is still inside. With a smooth slow roll of his hips he pushes in again and hits Crowley’s sweet spot on the first try. 

Crowley wails. Precome drips from his cock. “Yes! Angel, yes!”   
Aziraphale repeats the motion. Crowley is trembling each time Aziraphale hits Crowley’s prostate. Aziraphale’s hands are on his hips, holding him in place, he sets a steady pace that’s driving Crowley mad with want. Crowley reaches for his own cock and gasps, when he closes his hand around it and strokes. Yes. This is what he needs. If only Aziraphale would be a little rougher… 

“Harder, angel… please, harder!”  
“But isn’t this feeling good already, dearest?”  
“It is. But I need more!”  
Aziraphale speeds up his thrusts. Though he can sense it now: something is odd.  
“Go on! Give it to me hard and fast! I can take it, you know I can!”   
Aziraphale is alarmed. What’s happening here? Crowley has always been open about what he wants. And he has always loved being fucked. And with a little more power, too. But he sounds… different. Desperate in a kind of way that’s not good.  
“I don’t want to hurt you.”  
“You don’t hurt me! Please, angel, fuck me! Just fuck me hard and deep! I need it hard!”

This is too much. Aziraphale starts to feel uncomfortable.   
“I won’t do it like this! What’s gotten into you?” he asks and pulls out. Crowley howls.   
“NO! I need this! Damn it, Zira, I fucking need this!”  
“Why? I don’t understand! I don’t want it like this! This isn’t us!”   
He steps back, tucks his flagging erection back into his trousers.   
“And what the fuck is us?! What is us anymore? Is there still an us? We haven’t fucked for months, we barely really talk. All we do these days is lurk around and brood and make each other miserable! I didn’t want us to be like this! I want us back like we were! I thought you wanted that, too!” Crowley has turned around while talking. But he knows: he has made a mistake. He reaches for his shirt that is lying forgotten on one of the sofa cushions and covers himself with it while he slumps down on the sofa. His face is red, but underneath he looks pale. 

“But we will never be like that again! Too much happened! Do you think you will feel better after I fucked you senseless? Do you want me to hurt you? Is that it?” Aziraphale asks and comes closer again, looming over him, looking agitated. Crowley looks up to him, so many conflicting feelings clearly visible on his face and in the twitching of his hands.   
“I want to at least feel something different! All I feel these days is sad and angry and miserable and all in all just plain horrible! Is it so hard to understand that I want to feel something positive? And that I want to feel it with you? I was always able to feel it with you! You were the only being who was able to make me feel wanted, to make me feel loved and to make me feel good! Is all of that taken away from us now? Will we stay like this forever? Because I can’t go on like this, Zira, I just can’t!” He buries his face in his hands and screams. 

Aziraphale’s legs don’t support him anymore when he hears this agonizing scream, and he falls to his knees, bringing his hands over his ears.   
“Stop! Stop this!” he cries out. But Crowley can’t seem to stop himself, and as a demon he doesn’t really need to breathe. His scream lasts, until Aziraphale can’t stand it a second longer. He scrambles onto the sofa and with angelic strength he pries Crowley’s hands away, takes his face in both his hands and yells at him: “Stop!” with as much willpower as he can muster and a hint of his power as a principality. Crowley falls silent, looks at him with his golden eyes, shining with unshed tears. 

“Please, stop, Crowley, stop it… please…” Aziraphale begs, his voice now only a whisper, and Crowley throws his arms around him and buries his face in his shoulder. His fingers are digging deep into Aziraphale’s back.   
“I am done, angel… I can’t anymore. I just can’t…”   
Aziraphale holds him close and closes his eyes. He is so tired… never in his existence has he been this tired. This whole dreadful situation has exhausted him to no end, and he knows exactly what Crowley is talking about.

“I am so sorry, Crowley… I wish I could make it better. I can’t. I don’t know what to do, either. I want you to feel better. I want _us_ to feel better. I don’t know how. What can we do, my love? I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. But I am at my wits' end, too. What shall we do?”  
“I have no idea,” admits Crowley. He crawls even closer until he is practically in Aziraphale’s lap, and they cling to each other for a little eternity. Until Aziraphale lifts his hand, cards his fingers through Crowley’s hair and gently retreats from the tight embrace. He kisses Crowley’s eyebrow, caresses his cheek and looks into his face. 

“We have to do something,” he then says determinedly. Crowley nods. He sniffs. Looks into Aziraphale’s blue eyes and finds them dark and sad, and it hurts him to see his angel like this.   
“Let’s leave London for a while. Maybe it’s best if we make a clean break,” Aziraphale suggests the same moment. Crowley frowns.  
“But where do you want to go? Not the cottage again. I can’t stand that place at the moment.”  
“No. I thought…” Aziraphale tries to compose himself.  
“What about Rome for a start? We haven’t been to Rome for centuries. Refresh old memories. Visit some places of our past. Newt and Anathema asked us to leave them and Lilian alone for three months. We can as well spend the rest of the time away. It could help us find our way back to each other again. To the us we used to be.” 

Crowley thinks about that for a second. “What about your bookshop? Do you really want to leave it again so soon after we returned home?”  
“The shop is not a big deal. It will be fine. I want us to be fine, too. What say you?”  
It’s the best idea Aziraphale has had in a long while. Crowley nods. “Yes. Let’s do it.”  
“Good. As soon as possible.”   
Crowley glides from Aziraphale’s lap and leaves the sofa. He is dressed again with a snap of his fingers.   
“I’ll go home. Find us some nice room near the colosseum and a flight. I give you a call once I have arranged everything.”   
He steps close, bends down and kisses Aziraphale on the lips. “We’ll make it through. I want us to.”  
“I want that, too.”  
“Good. I still love you, angel.”  
Aziraphale smiles. He lifts his hand to touch Crowley’s cheek. “I know. And I love you, too.”   
Crowley smiles a little sad smile, then he leaves. Aziraphale stays on the sofa for a moment longer. But he has the feeling that leaving London is the only reasonable thing to do. 

Crowley calls later in the evening. He has booked them flights to Rome for the day after tomorrow and a nice hotel close to the colosseum, just like he had promised. He gives Aziraphale all the details. Aziraphale writes everything down. Then there is silence. Until Aziraphale says: “We have to tell Anathema and Newt.”  
“I know. Let me do it. I’ll call them.”  
“Do you really want to do that? I can talk to them, if you want me to.”  
Crowley grips the phone in his hand so hard his knuckles turn white. “No. You did so much already. I’ll do it. Tomorrow. Do you… want me to come back over tonight or…”  
Aziraphale considers for a moment. Then he says: “I could come to yours, if you’d like.”  
“Yes,” is everything Crowley answers. They may have fought and they may have problems. But he knows he doesn’t want to be alone. And there is no one else he could turn to.   
“Fine. See you later, then.”

Crowley is glad Aziraphale is still with him, when he dials Anathema’s and Newt’s number. It’s Newt who takes the call.   
“It’s Crowley, Newt. Is Anathema with you?”  
“Yes, she’s just finished feeding Lilian. She’s settling in with us very nicely.”  
Crowley looks over to Aziraphale. He has his mobile on speaker, so Aziraphale can listen. They clearly see the pain on each others faces. Crowley swallows, before he says:  
“Good to hear. We knew she would. Can you please get Anathema and put us on speaker?”  
“Of course. Something the matter?”   
They can hear Newt walking around.   
“In a minute. We won’t bother you for long.”  
“Oh… Ana? It’s Crowley and Aziraphale.”  
“Coming! - And you, little lady, will take a nice nap now.” 

Crowley and Aziraphale wait, until Newton and Anathema have left the nursery and Anathema greets them: “Hello. Nice to hear you. How are you?”  
“Hello Anathema. Aziraphale is here, too. We wanted to tell you… We’re going on a holiday tomorrow, starting in Rome. We don’t know for how long. We would like to stay in contact. And if anything happens, call us of course.”  
“You don’t have to leave England,” Anathema says. She immediately knows that the situation is no longer tolerable for the angel and the demon. “I know we said we needed you to keep your distance. But we didn’t want to drive you away.”

Crowley sighs. “You didn’t. It was our decision. It’s fine. We all need some time. And Zira and me… we need to remember what has always been the most important about us. We’re going to visit some places that were important to us in the past. If you need anything, you can call us any time.”  
“I feel bad now,” admits Anathema.   
“Don’t. Like I said: this is what we have to do. You and Newton just carry on like you do now. You will be fine, and we will, too. Give… give Livi a kiss from us both. Bye, Ana.” He ends the call before Anathema or Newton have a chance to say anything else. He looks at Aziraphale.   
“Was that alright?”  
“You did well. Thank you for talking to them.” Then he with a sigh and a tired smile he leaves his place on the sofa next to Crowley.   
“I still have to pack. Are you picking me up tomorrow?”  
Crowley nods. “I’ll be at yours at ten. Don’t pack too many books.”  
Aziraphale smiles, then bends down and kisses him. “You should know me better. See you tomorrow, then.” 

It’s late afternoon, when they get out of the taxi in front of a lovely hotel near the famous colosseum. Aziraphale immediately likes it, when he follows Crowley to the reception. Crowley deals with the formalities, effortlessly switching from English to Italian and immediately charming the young receptionist. Their luggage is brought to their room, and they receive the key cards and some suggestions for restaurants nearby. A few minutes later they inspect their spacious room. The bath has a big tub, and from their window they can catch a glimpse at the Forum Romanum next to the colosseum. Unpacking takes them only a few minutes. When Crowley emerges from the bathroom, Aziraphale is looking out of the window.

“Want to take a little walk, see how much has changed?”  
It’s been centuries since they have last been to Rome, and Aziraphale smiles at Crowley’s question.   
“There will be plenty of changes, don’t you think?”  
“Yeah, sure. Do you think we can find the tavern we ran into each other in the year 41 A.D.? Or at least the place where it used to be…”  
Aziraphale smiles. “I tried to tempt you to some oysters…”  
Crowley comes close and takes Aziraphale into his arms. “I still don’t like them. I would prefer some pasta.”  
“I’m sure we will find a nice restaurant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will start to get better now, folks!


	17. Chapter 17

They actually find the place where the ancient tavern had been - now containing a shopping center. They just look at each other, smile and turn around to find a place to have dinner. Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hand on their way and at some point pulls him into a small trattoria with only eight tables with red and white checkered table cloths. Crowley orders a bottle of red wine for them. Aziraphale is not convinced they will get a decent meal in this little place, but is willing to give it a try. And when their meals arrive Aziraphale is surprised how good such a simple dish can be. He has ordered pasta with a simple tomato sauce - and it’s delicious. Crowley is having a pizza, but leaving about a third of it for Aziraphale who finishes it. 

They end the evening with a stroll to St. Peter’s dome. Aziraphale wants to visit it early in the morning, giving Crowley the possibility to sleep as long as he wants. Crowley is admiring the architecture and considers for a moment to accompany Aziraphale. But he doesn’t want to attract too much attention. And he certainly would, hopping from foot to foot to prevent blisters to the soles of his feet. Consecrated ground never goes well with demons… 

Aziraphale is up early and sneaks out of their hotel room without waking Crowley. He takes the usual simple Italian breakfast as one of the first hotel guests a few minutes after seven. He has a caffe latte and a sweet pastry - traditional for Italy. It certainly is a simple and quick breakfast, but that’s fine. He takes a taxi to the Vatican, and so is there very early. It’s been centuries since he has last visited St. Peter’s dome. He stands in front of the entrance for a while and just admires the beauty of the cathedral. There are already many visitors, most of them tourists, on their way inside. Aziraphale feels his heart beating a little faster when he finally enters the dome. 

He feels the same awe he has felt when had been here last time. St. Peter’s dome is a stunning and beautiful building. And it’s huge. The sheer dimension is mindblowing. Aziraphale walks slowly and admires everything he sees. His hands are clasped behind his back. At some point he enters one of the chapels and takes a seat. He lowers his head in a prayer. For a second he fears something could happen. But nothing happens of course. He smiles to himself, a sad little smile. What has he expected? That the ground beneath his feet would open up and swallow him? That one of the archangels would show up and slay him? He’s not that important anymore. Maybe never was. At least not for heaven. They would have tried to go after him if he was. Same with Crowley. They might have helped avoid Armageddon. But in the end they only played their role in Her ineffable plan… 

Aziraphale sighs. The ineffable plan… will they ever find out more about it? Does he want to? It doesn’t matter in the end. They are still here on earth. And still suffering. Aziraphale thinks about Crowley and how hard all this is on him. He tries to put on a brave face. But Aziraphale knows him like no one else. Crowley has a heart that is much too big for a demon. But Crowley has never been the ordinary demon. All demons had been angels. All demons have fallen. How is Crowley so different? 

Aziraphale can’t suppress a little smile, when he thinks about the first time he had met Crowley on the wall around the garden of Eden. Aziraphale had been intrigued, yes. But back then he had never thought he would end up with Crowley like this. It had taken him almost six millennia to realize what they were for each other. And the same moment it becomes crystal clear to Aziraphale: He will never allow anything to change what they have become for each other. They will make it through this. They will be fine again. Aziraphale will do everything to make this happen. And he will start today. Crowley deserves to be happy. Fallen angel or not. He is the love of his live. Nothing is going to change that. 

When Crowley wakes, he is alone. He groans and stretches his limbs beneath the covers and while he yawns nearly dislocates his jaw. Aziraphale will most probably visit St. Peter’s dome right now. Crowley snuggles deeper beneath the duvet and catches a glimpse at the bedside clock. Nearly ten. How long is Aziraphale gone already? Shall he wait for him here? Crowley could try out the bathtub. Or he could go shopping. See what’s up to date in Italy right now. Buy some clothes. Or some shoes. Maybe some new sunglasses. His laziness and his fascination for fashion battle each other for a few minutes. Then he finally decides to surprise Aziraphale with a new suit for dinner today. 

Aziraphales mobile vibrates just when he is about to enter the sistine chapel: text message. He opens it and smiles. Crowley tells him he’s going shopping for some clothes. Of course he would. Crowley was always obsessed with the latest fashion, always dressed up to his best. Aziraphale takes it as a good sign. He writes back to meet later at the hotel and then turns around again to enter one of mankind’s greatest master pieces of art. 

It’s late December, and it’s cold in Rome. Crowley has already bought a black scarf to bury his nose in it against the chilly wind and is wearing a down jacket. He hates the cold, part of his serpent nature. Rome is busy, has always been and will for as long as it stands. The Eternal City. Crowley easily finds the Via del Corso, where all the major brands can be found. Crowds of tourists are out and about, and Crowley finds it a little annoying. Via Condotti is a little less crowded, and Crowley enters the first store. 

Three hours later he needs a break and sits in a café with a double espresso. Three bags of different designer brands are lined up under his small table. He has even found some new snake skin shoes he wants to wear for dinner tonight. Right now he stretches his long legs and looks out of the window, when a young woman with a stroller opens the café’s door and tries to maneuver the stroller between the tables without disturbing the other guests. When she walks past Crowley’s table, the little child in the stroller begins to cry and loses it’s dummy. It’s not secured on a chain, and the item lands directly next to Crowley’s chair. The demon is frozen for a moment, staring at the little girl in the stroller. 

She must be less a year old, dark curls framing her face beneath a cuddly woolen hat. She looks stressed and hungry.   
“Oh Stella, just one second of patience, okay? Mum’s only going to find a free table…” The young woman looks around, but all the tables are taken. Crowley bends down and picks up the dummy. He offers it to the young woman.  
“She lost something,” he says, managing a smile.   
“Oh, thank you. She’s hungry, I have to feed her.” She takes the dummy and puts it her jacket. Crowley hesitates for a second, then says: “Please, take a seat. I don’t mind.”

The woman looks at him, bites her lip. “That’s… very kind, but… she still nurses, and I don’t want to embarrass anybody. I was looking for a table in a corner away from other guests.”  
Crowley swallows, but then smiles at her. “You won’t find one for yourself, it’s too busy. And I don’t mind if you feed her. I… have a little… godchild. I won’t spy. Promise.”  
She hesitates, taking a closer look at this handsome man in the dark clothes and dark glasses. But something about him strikes her as friendly and nice, and Stella is still crying, and other guests are already turning and staring at her, so she takes the second chair opposite Crowley.   
“Thank you.”   
“No problem.” 

Crowley takes a copy of the Italian Vogue out of one his bags and starts to leaf through the magazine, trying to give the woman some privacy. She takes takes off her coat before taking her daughter out of the stroller. She opens her jacket and blouse and once little Stella is nursing, the woman seems to relax a little. She uses her colorful scarf to cover her upper body and her child so nobody will be offended by her nursing. After a few minutes a young waitress approaches the table. 

“I am so sorry, Miss, but… some of our guests may find it inappropriate to breast feed in an open space,” she says, her cheeks red, clearly feeling uncomfortable. The young mother looks up. She seems to be used to such a comment.  
“I won’t take long. Could you bring me a glass of black tea, please?”  
The waitress hesitates. “It’s not me, Miss. It’s the manager. He asked me to tell you to… not breast feed in here. I’m really sorry.”  
Crowley puts his magazine on the table and turns towards the waitress.

“If your manager has a problem with a young mother feeding her child, then I would suggest he comes to tell her himself.” He glares at the waitress though he knows she can’t see his eyes.   
The waitress swallows visibly and takes a look at a man behind the counter who watches them closely.   
“I… I can’t tell him that, Sir.”  
“Then I will.” Crowley looks over to the manager, then stands up.   
“No, please. I don’t want to cause trouble. I’m… going to find another place,” the young mother says now.   
“You will do no such thing. Please stay here. And you bring her the tea she asked for,” Crowley says then turns and slowly saunters over to the counter where the manager looks at him, arms folded over his chest. 

“Are you the manager?”, asks Crowley and leans onto the counter.   
“I am.”  
“Good. Then I suggest you reconsider how to treat your guests. This young woman at my table is a guest like any other here.”  
“She can’t take her breasts out in public to nurse a child.”  
“Why not?”  
“It’s… not appropriate. And unhygienic.”  
“Unhygienic?” Crowley’s eyebrows wander upwards. He slightly opens his lips and slowly inhales through his mouth, using his serpent senses to smell everything there is to smell. Then he smiles.   
“I’ll tell you what’s unhygienic. The mouse droppings in your kitchen are unhygienic. It’s up to you. You apologize to your guest and her tea is on the house. Or I can call food safety and you’ll have to explain why you have mice in your kitchen. You choose.”

The manager goes pale and swallows. But since he knows Crowley is right, he then nods. Crowley grins with as many teeth as he can show.   
“Fine. Then I think my double espresso is on the house, too. I’ll wait for you at my table.” He turns and walks back to his table. The young mother looks up at him.  
“Don’t worry. I sorted it. Everything’s fine.” He looks expectantly over to the counter, where the manager himself prepares a glass of tea and takes it to their table.

“I am really sorry, Miss. Of course you can stay. Tea’s on the house. Have a nice day, and we would be delighted to welcome you again.”  
Crowley seems to be content with the manager’s reaction.   
“Thank you,” he smiles at the man and then dismisses him with a wave of his hand.  
The mother chuckles. “What did you say to him?”  
“Oh, I just asked him to reconsider his decision. And he did.”  
“Thank you. You are too kind.”  
“Nah. It was my pleasure. No woman should ever be ashamed to feed her child like mother nature intended it.”  
“Not everybody thinks like this.”  
“Like I said earlier, I have a little godchild. I know how challenging it is to raise a child.” He drinks the rest of his espresso, before he gathers his bags and his Vogue.   
“I have to go now. All the best for you and little Stella,” he says, smiles at the young mother and then leaves. 

As he walks back to the hotel Crowley has a lot of mixed feelings. He is smug that he handled the situation like he did. And happy to have given the young mother some support. But the whole thing has reminded him of Lilian, too. Not that he doesn’t think about her constantly. He does. And has no clue if this will ever change. He has distracted himself enough today with his shopping and his long walk through Rome, but now his thoughts return to his daughter. 

When he enters their hotel room Aziraphale is still not back. Crowley leaves his bags next to the desk and just shrugs off his down jacket and scarf before he flops down onto the bed, mobile in hand. While lying on his back he scrolls through the photos he has taken of Lilian. He has avoided looking at them for days now but can’t resist any longer. He bites his lip. Aziraphale has taken some pictures for him, too. And now he looks at a photo of himself with Lilian in his arms, looking into the camera, a smile on his face. That had been only days before they had realized she was mortal and Crowley’s world had still been perfect. 

How do humans handle this? Do they even think about the fact that everybody has to die in the end? That they themselves will leave this planet and that their children have to as well? That they may have given them live, but that they have destined them to die, too? Crowley swallows. Maybe this whole “free will” thing had been the greatest mistake ever. Having a choice sounds like a good idea. But what choice is the right one? 

Crowley thinks about the first time he met Aziraphale. How he has joked who of them had done the bad and who had done the good thing. Does it matter in the end? Crowley has been witness to so many decisions that had seemed to be good and in the end had turned out to be horrible. He pulls a face when he realizes he is still making the same mistakes again and again. He is still questioning everything. He is still doubting. Has not enough faith. Still not enough faith. Where is Aziraphale? Suddenly he desperately wants to hear his voice. So he calls him. 

“Hello, Crowley!”   
Crowley closes his eyes. Hearing the voice of his beloved angel soothes him immediately.   
“Where are you, angel?”  
“On my way back. I’ve visited the sistine chapel, too. It’s still as marvelous as I remembered it. How was your shopping? Did you find something?”  
“Yes. Hope you’ll like it.”  
“Oh my dear, I always like what you wear.”  
Crowley chuckles. “You should try something new, too.”  
“Oh… I don’t have your fashion sense, darling. I would look ridiculous.”  
“I miss you.” 

Where did that come from?! It’s only a few hours! But Aziraphale makes a pleased sound.   
“I miss you, too. Strange, isn’t it? We’ve spent decades without seeing each other back then…”  
“I hope we never have to again,” admits Crowley.   
“You should know better. We’ll be together no matter what. I’ll take a cab and be back in no time.” He ends the call before Crowley can say anything more. He shakes his head and sighs, before he gets up to unpack his shopping. 

“We shouldn’t do that, Crowley. What, if anyone sees us?”  
“Come on, angel. It will be a sight to watch the fireworks from up there. All we have to do is sneak in.”  
“I don’t know, darling… It’s still risky.”  
Crowley groans. It’s New Years Eve. He had proposed to watch the fireworks from the Forum Romanum. There is this hill they can climb to have a fine view over the Forum and the city behind it. The Forum will be closed for the night, of course. But Crowley is sure they won’t get caught. He doesn’t even know why he so desperately wants to do this. But he does. Only thing is: Aziraphale is not convinced this is a good idea. 

“What’s risky about that? No one will see us. And if they do, a little miracle will help.”  
Aziraphale is still not convinced. “Why did you bring the Chinese to invent gun powder in the first place? If they hadn’t invented it, it would have saved the world so much trouble…”  
“Someone would have anyway. It wasn’t much of my doing, angel. But it’s not about gun powder per se at the moment. I want to watch this damn firework with you.” Crowley lets his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose and makes his best snake-puppy eyes.   
“Oh you… Fine, I’ll give in. But you bring the champagne.”  
“Will do! Promise!” 

They wait until half past eleven until they leave for the Forum Romanum. Crowley has investigated the best way in yesterday. He would suggest to just fly in, but he knows his angel will never do that. Crowley has no problem to open a locked gate with just a snap of his fingers and ushers Aziraphale inside before he locks up again. The ancient buildings are beautifully illuminated. That means they have to try to stay in the dark which is easier said than done. The way up the hill is less illuminated. Once they have reached the top of the hill, Aziraphale has to admit how amazing the view is. Crowley comes to stand very close behind him and wraps his arms around him.   
“Thank you, angel,” he murmurs into his ear and kisses his cheek.   
“You always make me do things a bit not good. But you were right, it’s lovely up here.”  
“Told you so.” 

They stay like this for a while. Occasionally Crowley looks at his watch. When it’s only a few minutes to midnight he snaps his fingers. A bottle of champagne and two glasses appear in his hands. He hands the bottle to Aziraphale.   
“Will you open this, angel?”  
Aziraphale obeys and fills their glasses. Crowley presses his cheek against Aziraphale’s. The angel is warmer than him, and it feels good. Crowley’s hands are damn cold already. The night is chilly. Crowley looks at his watch again.   
“Wanna count down? 15 seconds,” he says.   
Aziraphale chuckles. “No, I don’t think I want to count down. We’ve had so many New Years Eves already…”  
“It’s the first for us together… Happy new year, Aziraphale.”   
The first fireworks are starting to fly up into the air, when they turn toward each other. Aziraphale cups Crowley’s cheek. “Happy new year, my darling boy.” 

He leans forward, and their lips meet for a long and loving kiss, before they clink their glasses together and take a sip, keeping eye contact. Crowley smiles and leans forward again to kiss Aziraphale once more. The warmth of his mouth and the taste of the champagne are intoxicating. He tries to pour all his love into this kiss, to show Aziraphale without words how much he means to him. Aziraphale’s heart is beating fast. He knows what Crowley is trying to tell him without saying anything. As if he didn’t know how much Crowley loves him. He’s well aware. And still feels guilt that he ignored Crowley’s hopeless love for so many centuries. He puts an arm around Crowley’s middle and pulls him closer. Crowley gasps into their kiss. So they still can be like this. It’s good to know they are still close. Crowley’s hand strokes over Aziraphale’s arm and shoulder and then touches the blond curls. Aziraphale feels his scalp tingling, when Crowley’s clever, agile fingers gently touch his skin and mess up his curls. He breaks the kiss. 

“We miss the fireworks…” he breathes.   
“I feel fireworks inside me,” replies Crowley with a smile, then touches his forehead to Aziraphale’s.   
“You dragged me up here. I wanted to stay in our room, warm and cozy.”  
“You can have warm and cozy in a few minutes.”  
“Well, then let’s watch the fireworks and then go back, yes?”  
“Yes…” Crowley gives him another kiss, then they finally turn to watch the fireworks illuminating the sky above the Eternal City and drink their champagne, Aziraphale again in Crowley’s arms. 

Half an hour later, the rest of the champagne still in their hands, they arrive back in their hotel room. Crowley connects his mobile with the hotel’s blutooth speaker next to their bed. He quickly scrolls through his playlists and starts one. When he turns to Aziraphale, he smiles and holds out a hand.   
“Dance with me, angel?”   
Aziraphale blushes. “You know I’m not much of a dancer.”  
“I know and I don’t care. I just want to hold you in my arms.”

This is a confession Aziraphale can’t resist. He empties his champagne, before he shrugs off his coat and takes Crowley’s hand. The music that is playing is nothing Aziraphale would have expected to be found on Crowley’s mobile. It’s a slow jazz and reminds him of some nights spent in New Orleans. It reminds him of warm, humid air, of the smell of the fantastic cajun and creole cooking and the much weaker, but not less amazing smell of jasmine and angels’ trumpets. Aziraphale sighs and closes his eyes and sways with the music. Crowley’s hands - one holding his hand, the other on his waist - are warming up already, and his strong body is deliciously close. He can feel Crowley’s breath on the skin of his neck. It feels good, so good, to allow this moment. To feel them. To feel that they have still this deep connection. There is still all this love. Aziraphale is glad it’s still there. He smiles, then turns his head to look at Crowley. 

Crowley has taken off his glasses and looks back at him, his face so soft, and he, too, is smiling just a little bit. Their lips meet again, and they kiss and kiss while they still move to the soft jazz tunes, just enjoying this, their pain and sorrow pushed into a far corner of their minds for the moment. The closeness and intimacy causes a reaction in both of them. Their kisses become deeper, and Aziraphale minutely pulls Crowley closer. They are still pretending to dance, but there is more happening between them. Finally Aziraphale breaks their heated kisses.

“I want to feel you. All of you. Let’s lie down,” he begs and starts undressing. They quickly shed their clothes and then glide beneath their duvet. The small lamp on the bedside table makes Aziraphale’s skin glow in a golden shimmer. He looks beautiful. 

Crowley wants to do it right this time. And it feels right now, too. He doesn’t want a hard fuck just to feel something else but pain. He wants to feel Aziraphale. He wants to show him how much he still loves him. He lifts his hand and caresses Aziraphale’s cheek. The angel slowly turns his head to kiss his palm. They look at each other. It’s the first time for months that they really look at each other. Aziraphale takes Crowley’s hand.   
“I love you, Crowley,” he says quietly.   
“Angel…” 

Crowley’s voice is barely audible. He wants to say so many things. He doesn’t find the words. He looks at his angel. At his beautiful, gentle and loving angel. He remembers so many days they have spent together. They have known each other for more than 6.000 years. Crowley has loved Aziraphale for more than 6.000 years. He has saved him from so many troubles during these 6.000 years. They have argued, they have laughed, they have shared many meals and even more wine, they have thwarted each other. So many memories. Crowley can still see Aziraphale like he was in the garden. His white tunic. His wings. His smile. Crowley still is absolutely sure that it was this smile that made him fall in love with Aziraphale. And he feels like he still falls in love again every time Aziraphale smiles at him. Just like now. 

Aziraphale knows, sometimes it’s hard for Crowley to find the right words. Words of affection have never come easily to him. But he tries. And when his words fail him, he can still show him what he feels with everything else he has. With his amazing eyes. His elegant hands. His thin, but wonderful lips. And that’s enough for Aziraphale. Because he knows how Crowley has longed for him. Had been afraid to reveal his true feelings, cause back then Aziraphale wasn’t ready. He is now. 

So now he only smiles, when Crowley moves, straddles Aziraphale’s hips and then bends down to kiss him deeply, sweetly, while he runs his hands over the bare skin of Aziraphale’s chest. Aziraphale gasps. Crowley takes his time to savour the feeling. Nothing is like touching Aziraphale. He lets his hands lead the way and follows with his lips and tongue. Aziraphale’s warm, soft body smells and feels so perfect… Crowley caresses and kisses as much as he can. When he reaches Aziraphale’s already half hard cock, he doesn’t hesitate to pay the same attention to it until it’s fully hard. It feels so good to do this to and for Aziraphale. He just hopes Aziraphale can sense that this is much more than just sex. This is lovemaking.


	18. Chapter 18

And Crowley wants to. He really wants to. He wants to make sweet, tender love to Aziraphale. But something inside him blocks his own arousal. What never failed to make him hot and wanting - his wonderful, soft, warm and beautiful angel - does nothing for him tonight. Aziraphale doesn’t notice how Crowley reaches down to his own mostly soft cock. But no matter what he does, it stays soft and unresponsive. What’s happening? Why can’t he get hard? 

Aziraphale gasps, when Crowleys adds little flicks of his forked tongue to his gentle sucks and probes the small opening of his cock with one of the tips. His demon’s clever tongue never disappoints. But there is something just out of Aziraphale’s reach, that doesn’t feel right. Something is different, feels off. He just can’t put his finger on it. Maybe it’s too soon. It feels good, yes. But it doesn’t feel perfectly right. And he can’t help but think about the one time since Lilian’s birth when they had sex and that went so horribly wrong… 

Crowley is close to using a little miracle to get his cock hard, when he feels Aziraphale’s hand on his shoulder.  
“Darling…” His sweet voice, a little breathless, but somewhat… what? Concerned? Crowley hesitates to look up, tries to hide his soft penis from Aziraphale’s gaze. And feels the angel’s cock lose some of it’s hardness. Oh no… he can do nothing right, can he? Just when he decides to double his efforts, Aziraphale speaks again.  
“Darling, please… give me a moment…”  
Crowley lets got of Aziraphale’s cock and looks up.  
“I’m sorry, Crowley, but I… I can’t.”  
A blush is creeping onto Aziraphale's cheeks. He reaches for the duvet and pulls it over his hips. While he does so, he catches a glimpse of Crowley’s naked body - even though Crowley tries to turn away as fast as he can. And Aziraphale sees he is not as excited as he had pretended to be.  
Crowley doesn’t say a word. He leaves the bed and hurries to the bathroom.  
Aziraphale sighs. Should he follow him or give him some time to calm down? It’s difficult to read him at the moment. 

Crowley stares at his reflection in the mirror, bares his teeth. He hates what he sees. He hates his serpent eyes. He hates the lines around them. He hates how tired and sad he still looks, pale and thin because of his lack of an appetite. No wonder Aziraphale doesn’t want to have sex with him. His gaze wanders lower. Since he has changed back into a male body he hasn’t paid much attention to it. It was like slipping into an old, familiar jumper. Does he miss his female body? He kind of does. But at the same time he is glad to be back in a form he has taken for most of his time on earth. He had never thought how much changing his gender would change his life. But it certainly has. 

A tentative knock at the door startles him for a second.  
“Are you alright, my dear?”  
Crowley swallows. No. He is still not alright. In many regards. Once again he looks at himself in the mirror. He had imagined this evening differently…  
“You have to make it. You have to get better. For him. He tries so hard…” he whispers to himself. Thinks about Aziraphale and that he can’t let him down.  
“Coming. Just one minute.”  
He turns on the water and washes his face. When he returns into the bedroom, Aziraphale sits on the edge of the bed. He has put on some pyjama bottoms and stands up now.

“Darling - I’m sorry I turned you down. But… could it be that you did what you did just to please me?”  
Crowley rushes to put on some pants and a flimsy t-shirt he likes to wear during the night.  
“What - making love to you? Yeah, of course I did this for you. For whom else would I do this?” Crowley snarls and hates himself for it. Aziraphale did nothing wrong. If something is not right, then it’s him. It’s always him… Every ounce of strength leaves him at once. His shoulders sag and he sits down on the mattress. Why can’t he do anything right? 

“I’m so sorry, angel… this is all my fault. I made that first move to change our friendship into a relationship. If I hadn’t done that, none of all this madness would have happened…” Crowley says quietly. All of a sudden the real reason for his sadness is back. Because it has never vanished since they left Lilian in Tadfield. It had only been a matter of time until it came up again, Aziraphale knows that. He hears the pain in each of Crowley’s words. And it makes his heart ache.  
“That’s nonsense. It’s not your fault.”  
“Of course it is. I started it. And if I hadn’t been this greedy, horny bastard, if I hadn’t tempted you to sleep with me when I was a woman… It was all my doing. Only mine. I made you go through all this misery.”  
“Crowley, stop. Please, darling. You did do nothing wrong. You may have made the first step. But I decided to go with you. And I knew what I was doing. I knew what I wanted. I still want it. I still want you. I want us.” 

He sits next to Crowley on the bed. Crowley’s head hangs low.  
“How can you say that… How can you still want me? I am a failure. I am a joke of a demon. I am a joke of a partner. And I would never have made a decent parent.”  
“That’s not true. You were the most wonderful mother for Lilian. You did everything you could. Please, darling, you have to see it this way: Lilian is in this world because of you. She is a wonder. And she wouldn’t be here on earth if not for you.”  
“I only cause her trouble and pain. Not only her. You, too. And we brought Anathema and Newt into this mess. They have to make right what I did wrong. They will carry the burden of raising a stranger’s child as their own.”  
“We’re not strangers to them. Will you please stop blaming yourself?”  
“I can’t even make love to you like I should and like I want to!” Crowley leaps to his feet now, before Aziraphale can put an arm around him to comfort him. 

“It was one time that you didn’t get an erection. I already told you: I understand. Too much has happened. We both need time. I am not putting any pressure on you. I don’t want to sleep with you when you can’t enjoy it. We’re both still trying to cope with the most challenging situation of our relationship.”  
“I wish I could turn back time…” whispers Crowley. A rush of ice cold fear washes through Aziraphale. Crowley had stopped time once. But he isn’t powerful enough to reverse time. And Aziraphale is glad he knows this for sure. Because if he was… the thought is too horrible to follow it.  
“To do what? Erase Lilian’s existence? Even if you could do it, you wouldn’t be able to change our memory. You and me, we are both beings that exist outside time. We wouldn’t change a bit. We would still remember everything. And her. But I would never let you do that. You know that, right?”  
“Still… At least one life saved from all this mess.”

Aziraphale closes his eyes for a moment. Crowley sounds so broken-hearted that Aziraphale is afraid he will never overcome his grief and pain.  
“It is a mess right now, that’s true. But we are trying to sort it out. Lilian has her new parents. We will watch over all the three of them. And you and me will get better. It will just take some time. But if we do it together, we will. You will be happy again. Promise.”  
Crowley says nothing. He wants to believe Aziraphale, and part of him does. The other part still doubts.  
“I wanted to make you feel good. And in making you feel good feel better myself.”  
“I know. And you made me feel good. It’s just… Don’t try so hard, my dearest. There is no pressure. I want it to come natural to us. And it will. And I still want to feel all of you.”  
He reaches for the t-shirt and pulls it over Crowley’s head. When he takes off his pj bottoms again, Crowley wriggles out of his pants, too. He switches off the bedside lamp. 

Aziraphale pulls Crowley close, the demon’s back against Aziraphale’s chest. Crowley pulls his knees up, and Aziraphale follows the movement with his own warm thighs. He wraps an arm around Crowley’s chest.  
“Try to sleep, dearest. I know what you think now. You think we will never get better. But we will. With time. You’ll see. I promise we’ll get better.”  
Crowley says nothing. He just sighs and shifts a little, snuggles even closer into Aziraphale’s loving and protective embrace. 

Aziraphale just wants to be here for Crowley, wants him to feel safe and loved. He listens to his breath evening out until he recognizes the pattern of sleep. Aziraphale’s hand on Crowley’s chest feels the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. This heart will never stop beating. Not if Crowley doesn’t want it to. And even if it does, it wouldn’t affect him. Their supernatural existence influences their corporations. They won’t age or die. Aziraphale is not so sure anymore if an immortal life is something to be happy about. Not after all they have been through. He sighs and presses his nose against Crowley’s neck. 

Just like the demon knows what Aziraphale smells like, the angel could find Crowley’s smell among a million of others. He has memorized it aeons ago. Even though it had taken him some years to dissect the components of Crowley’s unique smell. Crowley smells mostly like a forest just after a thunderstorm, clean and fresh and somehow green. But there is a hint of cinnamon and pepper mixed into it and the faintest whiff of glowing embers. It’s an intoxicating mix, and Aziraphale loves it. He presses a gentle kiss to Crowley’s neck and closes his eyes. This is still the most important. Them being together like this. Their trust, their love, their closeness. Aziraphale sighs quietly. They will get better. He is sure of it. 

In the light of the very early morning Crowley stirs, still wrapped in Aziraphale’s warmth and comfort. He hears the angel’s even breathing - and a very quiet little snore. Crowley’s eyes fly open. Aziraphale… is sleeping? He has only once seen him sleeping. After the big fire that destroyed the library of Alexandria. Aziraphale had tried to rescue as much as possible of the precious writings stored there. He had carried arms full of papers, books, scrolls and papyri out of the library, not caring if he got burnt himself. Crowley had helped him once he had learned what was happening, until the fire became too much to bare even for them. Crowley had to keep Aziraphale from running into the fire once more, had to keep him from discorporating himself. He had watched how Aziraphale had cried silent tears, his skin and clothes dirty with ash and soot, some of his hair scorched. 

After a soothing bath and a very simple meal only containing bread and cheese, Crowley had put him into his own bed, where Aziraphale had curled in on himself, face blank, his eyes red, still coughing now and then. Crowley had never seen him this tired before. He hadn’t dared to touch him. Their friendship hadn’t been like that back then. Instead he had started to talk. Had remembered the times they had spent together. Aziraphale had fallen asleep listening to Crowley talk. And Crowley hat watched over his sleep the whole night. They had never talked about it afterwards. 

How exhausted must the angel be! Come to think about it, Aziraphale had been alert and concerned since he had learnt about the pregnancy. Had always put Crowley’s well being over his own. Had done everything in his might for him. Of course he must be dead tired. So Crowley is glad and relieved that Aziraphale can finally relax, can find some peace in his sleep and recover. He might be a principality and might not need to sleep regularly. But even his strength must end at some point. 

Crowley hopes Aziraphale can sleep a little longer. He closes his eyes again and tries to snuggle even closer to him. Aziraphale’s arms are around him, his whole body pressed against his. One of his soft, warm, perfectly manicured hands is splayed over Crowley’s chest. Crowley feels surrounded by his angel, safe and secure. But Crowley feels something more - Aziraphale’s hard cock pressing up between his own buttocks. He wriggles a little to feel more of it. It feels good. It tells him Aziraphale still wants him. Crowley smiles to himself. He’s glad that his body is still able to make the angel wanting. And he wants him, too, he realizes. He reaches down and is surprised to find his own cock hard and leaking. He closes his hand around it and squeezes, just to take the edge off. He doesn’t want to wank properly. But he can imagine it’s Aziraphale’s hand holding him. Grounding him. Taking care of him. Like he always does. He moves his hand very slowly, careful not to work himself up too much. He just wants to enjoy this. Aziraphale is warm and close, so close… 

“Are you enjoying yourself, dear?”, whispers Aziraphale against the skin of Crowley’s shoulder and then plants a kiss onto it. Crowley is startled for a second, but then relaxes again.  
“Immensely,” he retorts.  
“May I help you with it?”  
“We could help each other.”  
“Mmm… sounds perfect…” 

Crowley slowly turns, still in Aziraphale’s arms, and they look at each other in the dim light of the early morning filtered through the curtains.  
“There you are, my love…”, murmurs Aziraphale before he kisses him like only Aziraphale can kiss him. It’s so gentle and loving, careful and sensual. His warm lips and tongue move in perfect harmony with Crowley’s. His hands caress the skin on his shoulders and back, down to his perfect buttocks and back up, find their way into Crowley’s sleep mussed hair. 

Crowley shudders from all the love poured into these caresses and has the feeling that maybe everything can be alright again. They can be alright again. Because the love is still there, and it’s more than he has hoped for. This love his stupid demonic heart has been feeling for more than six millennia now. This hopeless, forbidden, unwanted love. But that kept him going what ever has happened. Every time they ran into each other - accidentally at first but never unwelcome, because there had always been something between them - had been a blessing for Crowley. He had never been able to tell Aziraphale. But in the end… he didn’t have to. Because he now knows Aziraphale has felt it, too. And still does. Pours it into his every touch and caress, his every kiss and breath against his skin. 

Their erections brush against each other, hips pressing close. This is so familiar. It’s so good. Crowley could weep with joy. He licks into Aziraphale’s mouth, enjoying the warmth and sweetness, until Aziraphale puts both hands on his cheeks, breaks the kiss.  
“Need you. Need you inside me,” he begs. Crowley’s heart leaps.  
“Oh… alright, angel. Just let me -”  
“No need. Just took care of it. Now, darling. Please…” 

Aziraphale rolls onto his back and spreads his legs. His cock is flushed and hard on the soft rolls of his belly, clear precome glistening at the tip. Crowley swallows. And even if he trusts Aziraphale, he has to be sure. He would never forgive himself if he hurt him. The fingers of one of his hands glide down over Aziraphale’s flank, move over his belly, then between his thighs. He moans when he feels Aziraphale is slick and open, more than ready to take him. Crowley gasps, then moves close. He grabs for a pillow to shove it under Aziraphales bottom, spreads his legs a little wider to look at him. How he wants to dive in now, to open him even further with his clever tongue, but Aziraphale has made clear what he wants. So Crowley positions himself, grabs his cock and guides it towards Aziraphale’s hole. 

They haven’t done this in more than a year. It punches the air out of Crowley’s lungs when his glans glides in. He has to stop for a second, doesn’t want to come on the spot. It’s so intense, so warm and so tight although Aziraphale has miracled himself open! And just then he looks down into Aziraphale’s face. The angel is smiling at him, so soft, so open in his love and adoration… He sinks into Aziraphale’s welcoming arms, his cock gliding inside with ease, and Aziraphale gasps.  
“Oh my love, you feel so good…”  
“Angel,” is all Crowley can manage. Aziraphale’s arms pull him so close, he’s barely able move his hips, but doesn’t have to. 

This is not about fucking. This is about making love. It’s about them. For the first time in months it’s just about them. Aziraphale kisses him slowly, sweetly. They are only feeling each other. Warm skin, humid breath, soft lips, wet tongues, steady hands. The little swell of Aziraphale’s belly against Crowley’s almost concave one, the angel’s cock pressed between them, wet with precome, hard and hot and aching. Crowley buries his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, sucks a mark into his soft skin, laves it with his tongue. Aziraphale makes a sound a little like a sob, his hips jerk against Crowley, his palms cupping his buttocks. They barely move together, but it’s good. It’s so good, it’s familiar, it’s like it should be between them. Aziraphale feels wetness on the skin of his neck but also on his own cheeks. He doesn’t want to cry again, he has already cried so much. But these tears are different. These are tears of love and joy and gratitude. They have been through a horrible time. But now he knows they will get better. If only they stay together. Keep fighting together. For their love. 

Crowley feels Aziraphale’s hand glide from his buttocks over his back and up into his hair, gently holding onto the messy red strands, even more gently pulling his head up so Aziraphale can kiss him properly again, lips and tongues moving together. Aziraphale feels Crowley shudder in his arms, feels his thick cock pulsing inside him, then hears him gasp and moan as he comes deep inside him, their lips unlocking.  
“Angel - I love you, angel… love you so much…” His voice hoarse, his cheeks wet, his eyes now opening, searching his, his hips still moving in slow thrusts, and Aziraphale is there. He cries out, when his cock jerks between them, bliss washing through his body, his toes curling in the throes a slow, intense, amazing climax, spilling his seed between them. 

Crowley peppers Aziraphale’s face with little butterfly kisses. His lips are so, so gentle, touching his cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose, his lips, he nips at his throat and earlobe, before returning to Aziraphale’s lips, and they both sigh in the deep, slow kiss. With a deep rumbling chuckle Crowley snuggles into Aziraphale’s broad, soft chest, while his cock slips free. He puts his ear over Aziraphale’s heart, hears the steady sound of his heartbeat and feels his chest moving with every breath. He smells the angel’s unique scent. Old paper, caramel and tea and this special something - if innocence had a smell, it would smell just like this, Crowley is sure of it. Aziraphale caresses his shoulders, back and arms, presses a loving kiss into his hair.

“I love you, Crowley,” he murmurs.  
“Love you, angel. Always have and always will.”  
“Glad you still feel like this.”  
“Some things never change.”  
Aziraphale hums. The vibration is sending goose bumps up Crowley’s spine. Crowley thinks he could go back to sleep, doze a little more. He doesn’t, though. He is much too happy to lie in Aziraphale’s arms and wouldn’t want to miss any second of it. 

They stay like this for a while. Until Crowley sighs deeply and kisses Aziraphale’s chest.  
“Hungry, angel? I could order us breakfast. Let’s have a lie in and be lazy today.”  
Aziraphale smiles. “Pretend we’re on our honeymoon?”  
“Why not? Nobody’s business but ours.”  
“Alright. You choose.”  
Crowley reaches for the telephone on the bedside table and calls reception to order them breakfast, never leaving his comfortable place on Aziraphale’s chest. Aziraphale is smiling. The world seems to be a little brighter right now. He really hopes this will last. They cuddle until there’s a knock at their door. Crowley jumps out of bed, pulls on just some pants and opens for the room service. The young man blushes furiously, when he sees Crowley nearly naked and Aziraphale still in bed, sheets pulled up to his nose. But Crowley just grins at him and gives him a generous tip. 

They seem to get better with every passing day from this morning on. It’s still hard whenever Anathema sends a text or voice message. But they try to see it differently now. Her messages and photos are proof everything’s fine in Tadfield. Lilian seems to be happy, and that’s what all this is about. 

After two weeks in Rome they both feel like a change of scenery would do them good. They talk about places they have been to before and decide to visit Spain next. It’s again Crowley who takes care about everything. When Anathema calls them the next time, they are already in Seville, wandering through the museum of fine arts. 

“You are where?” the woman asks surprised.  
“Seville. Aziraphale has lived here in a monastery for some years, copying religious texts. What else, eh?” Crowley smiles when he looks over to his lover who is just looking something up in his guidebook.  
“Are you going to visit the monastery?”  
“Oh, yes. I’m sure he will tell me everything about the texts he copied and the other monks and how life in a monastery feels like and all that.”

He thinks about the day they have run into each other here in Seville. Crowley had some temptations to make. His surprise to find Aziraphale had been here for nearly a decade had been almost funny. They had met one morning when Aziraphale had delivered some of his precious handwritten texts to a priest. A rare occurence, since monks were not supposed to run around the city on a regular basis. Crowley had convinced Aziraphale to join him for a cup of wine well hidden in a garden. 

“You sound much better, if I might say so,” Anathema says.  
“Well… we have to get better at some point, don’t we?” He doesn’t want to tell Anathema too much about everything that has happened during the last weeks.  
“I’m glad. I care for you both, you know? You don’t have to worry about Lilian. She is fine. And Newton adores her. I just hope you and Aziraphale get better.”  
“We will. Don’t worry about us. Thank you for calling us. Do you want to talk to Aziraphale, too?”  
Because he is rubbish at friendly conversation. He goes over to Aziraphale who smiles at him. 

“Wait, I’ll hand you over. Until next time, Anathema.”  
Aziraphales face brightens when he hears Crowley say her name and takes the mobile from his hands.  
“Anathema, dear, how are you doing?”  
Crowley retreats a few steps, while Aziraphale quietly talks to Anathema not to disturb the other visitors of the museum. Crowley studies one painting of Francisco Goya, when Aziraphale joins him again to hand him back his mobile. Then he looks at the painting Crowley is looking at.  
“Oh…”

Crowley feels a shiver running down his spine. The painting is “Saturn devouring his son” and makes Crowley uncomfortable. It is believed to show the Titan Cronus or Saturn who is said to have eaten each of his children upon their birth because he had feared he would be overthrown by one of them. The painting is part of a special exhibition of Goya’s work and came here from Madrid.  
“How can one imagine such a horrible story?” Crowley asks quietly and links his arm with Aziraphale’s.  
“It’s only a story, darling. A myth.”  
“But the painting is real, and it’s horrible.”  
“Goya was in a bad state back then…” Aziraphale has taken some leaflets with him and now looks it up.  
“He painted this when he was in his seventies and feared for his own sanity. This one belongs to the series of so called Black Paintings. Goya painted them directly onto the walls of his house. They were later transferred to canvas,” he explains. 

“That’s all very interesting, but this painting is ugly and terrifying.” Crowley pulls Aziraphale away from this haunting piece of art. Aziraphale follows. He can imagine why it upsets Crowley so much. He had to deal with a somewhat similar decision before Lilian was born. Being reminded of this must be hard for him. No wonder he wants to escape the sight of this painting. Aziraphale just hopes it doesn’t cause Crowley to relapse into his state of guilt, pain and sorrow he seemed to just be beginning to overcome. Aziraphale has the feeling they are finally on their way to get better. He hopes he hasn’t risked this because he wanted to see this stupid exhibition. 

They walk on holding hands now and not caring about looks from other visitors. They know they attract the attention of humans - Crowley all long and lean, dressed all in black with his glasses on while wandering through a museum, Aziraphale soft and smiling, his usual light coloured attire and looking composed and always amused despite Crowley’s very cool demeanor. Aziraphale gently squeezes Crowley’s hand in his, and the demon squeezes back in a silent “thank you for always putting up with me”, before he asks, not even looking at his angel: “Are you up for a visit to the museum’s café? I could do with a coffee. What about a slice of cake for you, hm?”  
Aziraphale can’t help but grin. It’s eleven in the morning, of course they had breakfast. But he can never resist a sweet treat, and Crowley knows that very well.  
“Of course, dear. What ever you like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's light at the end of the rainbow!


	19. Chapter 19

They start to change cities every one or two weeks. Their next stop is for a week in Eisenach, Germany. They visit the Wartburg together and snigger like children when they see the small room where Dr. Martin Luther once threw an ink well at the devil - which had of course been Crowley. Aziraphale had been there as a guest, pretending to be a nobleman from the Netherlands. He had reprimanded Crowley for his joke, because of course the demon had only meant it as a joke. It hadn’t been one for Luther who was in the middle of translating the bible from Greek to German and was truly terrified after this affair. 

Since they are already in Germany, they decide to visit Berlin, too, where they both had spend a good part of the roaring twenties. Crowley had been a woman back then. Aziraphale remembers how amazing Crowley has looked. He had always been the centre of attention in the bars and salons. Crowley had been friends with Josephine Baker and has watched her perform countless times on stage of the Nelson theatre and has spent many nights with her, dancing charleston, drinking and smoking and looking absolutely amazing in his black flapper dresses or beaded dresses. His hair was short, and he loved to wear headbands or even crowns, and of course he always had a long cigarette holder even if he rarely smoked. It was just to complete his look. 

They are both surprised to find that the roaring twenties are just experiencing a revival and visit a cabaret and a bar and can’t stop grinning at all these people who try to re-create a kind of lifestyle and feeling that is lost forever. You can dress up in a flapper dress and dance to the same music, you can visit a cabaret or burlesque show. You can pretend. But nothing of this comes close to the real feeling of being part of something this new and decadent and amazing as it had been once.

But still Aziraphale and Crowley enjoy their time in Berlin before leaving for the next city. They want to visit some more metropoles, first stop by in Switzerland, before they travel on to Vienna. Vienna was one of the few times Aziraphale had been a woman. He had spent some years there as a lady-in-waiting for Empress Elisabeth of Austria, nicknamed Sissi, when the young woman had first arrived at Schönbrunn palace before her wedding. Crowley had met him there shortly after the wedding and had nearly fainted seeing Aziraphale as a soft, curvy woman in one of these amazing dresses that were popular at the time, with his blond curls done up into a beautiful updo. He had been such a beautiful sight, and Crowley had been mesmerized. The demon himself had been there out of personal interest. He had been hired as a garden architect and had met Aziraphale by pure coincidence. He had been in the garden, talking to the some of the gardeners and giving instructions, when Aziraphale had accompanied the freshly married Empress for a walk in the garden. 

Aziraphale and Crowley had arranged to meet in the evening for a glass of wine in a typical Austrian wine bar. Crowley hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Aziraphale the whole night and had admired his exceptional beauty. During the following time of his engagement as a garden architect he and Aziraphale had only briefly met each other in the gardens of Schönbrunn palace. Aziraphale had refused to meet Crowley again for another evening in a wine bar. Crowley’s engagement had only lasted a few months, and after that he had left Vienna. He had met Aziraphale again a few years later - in London. 

After Vienna Crowley and Aziraphale get on the next plane. Their next stops are Athens, St. Petersburg, Istanbul, Tunis and Lisbon and - of course - Paris. 

Paris is still beautiful. The food is still excellent. Aziraphale finds the best restaurants and life really seems to return to a state of normality for them. This time away has really done them good. They spend the days in pleasant togetherness. The nights though are filled with an intimacy of a whole new level. They don’t have sex every night. Some nights they just touch and kiss each other without wanting to go any further. When they sleep with each other it’s still very slow, sensual, very gentle and loving. It’s as if they still need to reassure each other of their relationship. It feels good to just live the day. 

Anathema calls once a week, sends some photos now and then. The conversations with her are polite, but short. And it feels alright for both Aziraphale and Crowley. Makes things easier. The last stop on their vacation is back in the United Kingdom. Crowley had insisted he wanted to see Edinburgh, and Aziraphale can’t deny him his wish. They spend the evenings in cozy pubs with excellent whiskey and even more excellent local beer and take some day trips, because the weather is surprisingly good. When they announce to Anathema and Newton that they will be back soon, the couple invite them for tea time - and to see Lilian. Crowley and Aziraphale are reluctant at first. They have been much better lately. What will happen once they see their daughter? But they never wanted to avoid her completely. Giving her to Anathema and Newton was the most convenient way to still be able to see Lilian frequently. So they agree to visit Tadfield the weekend after they come home.

*

Just by coincidence it’s Easter Sunday. The sun is shining brightly, spring flowers are blooming everywhere. But Crowley, who loves the days getting longer and warmer again and always smiles and admires the awaking nature and the flowers and colours, has no sense for anything like this today. He thinks he has never in his existence been this nervous. His heart is racing, he is sweating and he feels hot. His fingers are restlessly drumming a rhythm on the steering wheel, and from time to time he hisses, when another car dares to come too close to the Bentley.  
Aziraphale doesn’t comment, but feels the same agitation. When Crowley parks the Bentley in front of Jasmine cottage they both sit very very still. Neither of them dares to open the doors, left alone get out of the car. Aziraphale swallows loudly.  
“I fear like I might explode every second,” admits Aziraphale.  
“Me, too… I don’t know what to feel, Zira…”

Aziraphale reaches over to him and puts his hand onto his. They look at each other.  
“Do you think she will recognize us?” asks Crowley.  
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s best if she doesn’t.”  
Crowley bites his lip. He knows Aziraphale is right. The thought still feels wrong, though. Aziraphale is the first to find the strength to open the door and get out of the car. Crowley follows him. There is nothing else he could do.

Anathema opens the door before they even have the chance to knock. Of course she has heard the Bentley.  
“Hi! Good to see you! How have you been?” She kisses Aziraphale on the cheek and hugs Crowley, who reciprocates a little awkwardly.  
“Fine. But Zira had too many crepes over in Paris,” he tries to joke, “Had to take him to Edinburgh for hiking.”

“We weren’t hiking. We were just taking walks,” corrects Aziraphale with a smile and adds: “You should have seen how he was looking out for people searching for the Loch Ness monster. You can imagine where that myth has it’s origin…”  
“Hey, can a demon not have a swim?” Crowley asks, shrugging.  
“Not as a giant serpent. You should have heard him right after the first people had seen him. He was so smug…”  
Crowley grins. “It got me an article in the Infernal Times.”  
Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “Do you have any idea how often he has mentioned this in the last centuries?”

Anathema laughs with them, but she is not stupid. She can sense how desperately they are trying to appear fine. They do in fact seem to be much better. But there is still a certain sadness underneath. And a little fear…  
“I’ll make us some tea. And Newton made shortbread. It’s good to have you back.”  
Anathema chats away happily while she prepares the tea. But Crowley and Aziraphale only listen with half an ear, because they can hear Lilian fussing upstairs.

“Aziraphale?”  
Aziraphale blushes when he hears Anathema calling his name. He has been so distracted by Lilian that he hasn’t registered Anathema asking him something.  
“Hm?” He tries to hide it, but it’s no use. Anathema smiles at him.  
“I know you want to see Lilian. Newton’s just changing her nappy. I asked you if everything is fine with your shop.”  
“Oh, yes. I opened again two days ago.”  
“And he hasn’t had a single customer since,” drawls Crowley.  
“That’s not true. There was one. You scared him away when you uncoiled yourself from a shelve above him.”  
“Uncoiled?” Anathema asks, frowning.  
“I just had a little nap,” shrugs Crowley.  
“While he was a snake. He sometimes does that.”  
Anathema chuckles. “I see. Demonic humor.”  
“Nothing wrong with that, practically my job description for several millennia. Old habits.”

Anathema doesn’t respond, she just smiles and pours the hot water into the teapot.  
“Why don’t you sit down in the living room? I’ll bring the tea. Newt must be finished every minute now,” Anathema suggests, and both demon and angel nod and leave the kitchen. They are way to nervous to sit down, so they stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, listening. Finally they hear footsteps. 

“Let’s see who’s come to visit, Lilian…” Newton says, walking down the stairs and then into the living room. Crowley turns towards him immediately. His heart is pounding hard, he holds his breath and balls his hands into fists. Lilian is happily bouncing in Newton’s arms, making happy gurgling sounds.  
“Oh look, darling, there is someone who wants to say hello. Hi, Crowley. Do you want to take her?”

Crowley freezes. He would kill for the opportunity to hold Lilian. But should he really take her? How will it feel to have her back in his arms? Will she cry? And will he be able to hand her back to Newton? But to hell with all his questions, his doubts, fears and concerns.  
“Yes, please…” he breathes and reaches for Lilian. Newton comes closer.  
Lilian smiles brightly at Crowley when he takes her, but he can’t tell if she recognizes him or not. 

“Livi… my little one… hi, my love. You look fine, darling.” His voice is oh so gentle, his face soft. Aziraphale swallows. He has imagined this moment for days now. Has feared the pain would return and be just as strong as it had been before. He doesn’t know what he has expected, and he hasn’t talked about it to Crowley. Seeing them both now feels strange. Lilian is already six months old. She has grown so much, and that makes it a little easier. Of course she is the same person, the same baby. But seeing this change, this little distance between now and then - somehow it lessens the pain. They have started to separate. And that’s what was bound to happen. Crowley kisses Lilian’s temple, but she turns in his arms. She wants to look at him and smiles. 

“My, you are quite heavy, are you now?” Crowley says softly. He’s smiling, and Aziraphale blinks a few times to avoid tears. This is his mate and their daughter. But the image is very different from before.  
“Zira, look. She looks so different.” Crowley turns towards Aziraphale, and finally the angel comes closer. 

“Hello, Livi, my sweetheart,” Aziraphale breathes and smiles at her. When she looks at him she smiles back. Aziraphale reaches out a hand to touch her. Lilian grabs for his fingers and holds them. He laughs.  
“Oh, you’re growing strong.”

Lilian is definitely interested in Crowley and Aziraphale. But does she recognize them? Neither of them is sure. Lilian is fascinated with Crowley’s sunglasses and grabs for Aziraphale’s bow tie. Newton doesn’t want to disturb them, so he retreats into the kitchen, pretending to help Anathema who needs no help at all. They listen to the soft voices of both angel and demon and Lilian cooing and laughing. Anathema has mixed feelings, although she tries not to show them. She just hopes this day will end well - without tears and new sadness and devastation.

When she and Newton return to the living room, Lilian is on Aziraphale’s lap. Crowley is sitting next to him on the sofa watching them, a smile on his face. He does look a little sad, but it could be much worse.  
“You’re comfortable with each other, I see,” Anathema smiles.  
“She has grown so much… and she looks so differently! And what she has learnt so far, she’s not that tiny newborn anymore…” sighs Aziraphale.  
“We should all be glad she’s developing so well,” says Newton and pours them all some tea.  
“Oh, I nearly forgot - we’ve met Adam and the rest of the gang just a few days ago. They have asked about you. Adam sends his love”, Anathema tells them. 

“Is he alright? And still fine with his parents?” asks Aziraphale.  
“Very. He has gained much confidence, and his friendship with the other kids has deepened after what has happened. I’m glad he’s doing so well.”  
“Could have ended in a disaster. And his parents suspect nothing?”  
“No. They still just think the children got into trouble breaking into an airbase.” 

A loud squeal from Lilian turns the attention back to her. She bounces and squirms on Aziraphale’s lap.  
“She’s becoming quite active. She can turn herself, she’s grabbing for everything within her reach and puts everything into her mouth. So be careful what you hand to her. She will most definitely drool all over it,” Anathema warns with a smile.  
Aziraphale chuckles. “A little drooling won’t kill us.”  
“Says the angel with the light trousers,” grins Crowley.  
“Oh, so you want to take her back so she can drool on your expensive jacket.”  
“It’s just a jacket. And, yes, I want her to. You can go outside and get the presents we brought from our trip.”  
Aziraphale freezes for a second. “Yes, the presents! I’ll go get them. Where are your car keys?”  
Said keys are already dangling from Crowley’s finger. Lilian grabs for them with a bright, toothless smile, but Aziraphale is quicker. He takes the keys, and Crowley takes Lilian back and onto his lap. She immediately reaches for his sunglasses again, so Crowley takes them off and puts them away. Lilian is still much too small to recognize his golden eyes as not human, so no harm done here. 

When Aziraphale gets back to them, he has a bag in his hand.  
“Don’t worry, just a little something,” he says and starts with Lilian’s present, which is the one on top. Because it’s easter, and Aziraphale couldn’t resist, he has brought Lilian a stuffed rabbit. It’s small enough she can grab it and hold it, made out of a velvety smooth fabric, eyes and nose stitched onto it’s face so nothing can be torn off. He hands it out for Lilian to take it, and she grabs for the toy with a delighted squeal. One of the rabbit’s ears immediately disappears into her mouth, an everyone laughs. Then Aziraphale turns to Anathema. 

“I saw this in Rome and thought it would suit you.” He pulls a silk scarf out of the bag and gives it to her. The colour a mix of dark blues, violets and greens and some black stars printed onto it.  
“Oh, you shouldn’t have…” Anathema takes the scarf and looks at it. It’s in fact beautiful.  
“Thank you. The colours are just what I like.”  
Aziraphale smiles, relieved that he has made the right choice. Then he turns to Newton.  
“This was Crowley’s idea. Don’t blame me for it.”  
Newton takes a small parcel from Aziraphale and opens it a little reluctantly. Then he starts laughing. 

“Really? Where did you get that?” He pulls a little model of a Robin Reliant out of the small box and turns it in his hands.  
“We found this little shop in Istanbul which sold wood carvings. It was custom made for you,” explains Aziraphale. Crowley only grins, a little shy. Giving presents to someone else but his angel is very new to him.  
“Look, Ana. It looks just like Dick Turpin.”  
Anathema takes the small wooden model from Newton and takes a look.  
“A fine piece of work. Very thoughtful of you, Crowley.” She hands the model back to Newton. He immediately goes over to one of the shelves and places it in a free space.  
“Thank you, Crowley. I really miss Dick Turpin…”  
“We saw your new car. Nice choice.”  
“Hm…” makes Newton. The new car is of course much better for a family with a small child. But it wasn’t easy for him to part from his little special car. 

The next hour passes quickly. Every quarter of an hour Lilian switches from Crowley’s lap to Aziraphale’s and back again, until she begins to fuss and rubs her little fists over her eyes.  
“She must be tired,” Crowley says. He can see it. Lilian is close to crying now, making unhappy noises and shifts and turns in his arms.  
“Yes, she must be. Do you want to take her upstairs and put her to bed?” asks Anathema. Crowley shakes his head.  
“No. That’s your job.” Then he turns his attention back to the little girl in his arms.  
“Alright, Livi. Time to go to sleep. It was lovely seeing you, cherry blossom.” His lips touch her forehead, then he stands.  
Aziraphale touches her cheek. “God bless you, Livi. Sleep well,” he says with a smile. Then Crowley turns to Anathema. 

“Okay. There’s your mum, little one. See you soon.” He hands her over to Anathema who looks at him with her eyes wide. Crowley calling her “mum” was unexpected. He manages a little grin when he realizes Anathemas astonishment.  
“What? You are her mum now. She will know you as such and it will be true. For all of us.”  
Anathema rocks the unhappy Lilian in her arms.  
“I… I suppose you’re right,” is all Anathema can say.  
“And we should be on our way, too. Took enough of your time already. Angel?” Crowley turns and stretches his hand out for Aziraphale to take. Aziraphale takes it and stands up, too.  
“You’re right. It was lovely seeing you.”  
“You can come over any time, you know that, right?” Anathema says.  
Aziraphale nods. “We’ll be in touch. Thank you for having us. Bye, Newton.”  
“Bye. Stay safe.” Newton shakes their hands, then they leave. 

Crowley is staring at the road, driving like he is on autopilot. And maybe the Bentley does know the way back to London on its own. Crowley is tense. Aziraphale can see it whenever he glances at him and sees the line of his jaw, his white knuckles, his rigid posture.

Crowley has chosen to take the scenic route. Maybe to calm himself. Maybe to avoid too many distractions from the traffic. They are half way back to London, when Aziraphale asks him tentatively: “Are you alright?”

As if Aziraphale’s words have started a chain reaction, Crowley starts to breathe faster. His heart begins to race, he feels sweat building on his skin, everything is tingling and prickling. His fingers start to feel numb, he has a funny feeling and feels in fact a little dizzy.  
“Crowley?” Concern is mixed into Aziraphales question and he hesitantly touches Crowley’s arm.

Crowley hits the break full force. With a screech and an unhappy creaking sound the Bentley is forced to stop. Before Aziraphale can react, Crowley opens the door and jumps out of the car. He takes deep breaths and shakes his head while he places his hands on the Bentley’s roof. 

“Darling!” Aziraphale follows immediately, gently touches Crowley’s shoulder.  
“What’s the matter? Talk to me, dear….”  
Crowley tries to form his thoughts into sentences, but is still struggling with his emotions.  
“I… oh Satan, I can’t… damn…” He just stands there, hands scrabbling over the black polished surface of the car roof. Aziraphale watches him nervously. He has no idea what’s going on in Crowley’s head. He only tightens his grip on Crowley’s shoulder, and Crowley slightly leans into it. Aziraphale takes this as a good sign and decides to wait until Crowley has sorted out his emotions. 

Finally Crowley’s shoulders sag a little, and he finds his voice.  
“I thought… I thought it would be different… I was terrified I would feel like I did before. That it would break my heart again to leave her. I was wrong.”  
He turns towards Aziraphale.  
“I was wrong. Yes, it was hard to leave her. But… when I held her… I felt it. I felt it, Zira. She is no longer my daughter. I mean, she is, of course, but… she doesn’t feel like she belongs into my arms anymore. Does that even make sense?”  
Aziraphale swallows, thinks about an answer. But Crowley is already going on: “I had expected it to be harder. I had thought it would hurt more. It didn’t. Does that prove that I would never have made a decent parent?”

“What? No!” Aziraphale stares at Crowley, knowing that whatever he says now: it has to be the right thing.  
“You were the best parent for Lilian. You really were. But… We wanted her to bond with her new parents. She did. And that’s what we felt today. She will always be our most precious. But we’re no longer her parents…”  
Crowley lets his head fall back, stares up into the sunny sky. Thinks about the moment he saw Lilian for the first time in months. How he held her. How she chewed on the ear of the plush rabbit. How she laughed and tried to reach for them. But also how she snuggled into Anathema’s chest, when he handed her over to her before they left. 

When he looks back at Aziraphale, the angel is wiping his eyes with one hand. Crowley swallows. He understands. He understands and feels exactly the same.  
“Why are you crying?” Crowley lifts a hand and wipes away one stray tear that has escaped Aziraphale.  
“Because… you’re right. I don’t know what I had expected. And I still would love to have her in my arms. It’s just that… Just like you said. She doesn’t belong there anymore. And… I was okay with it. You’re not the only one doubting, Crowley. I doubt my own feelings, I doubt my decisions, and I doubt -”

“Shh… No. Don’t say it.” Crowley puts his finger over Aziraphale’s mouth before the angel can say it out loud. He remembers all to well what happened to him when he had voiced his doubts out loud…  
“You’ll fall, if you say it. And I won’t let that happen, angel. I can’t let that happen.”  
Aziraphale is surprised, when Crowley suddenly pulls him into his arms and hugs him tight.  
“I can never let that happen to you. Not you. Of all beings in the world, not you, darling…”  
Aziraphale gasps. Crowley has never before called him darling. He has called Lilian many pet names including darling, but never Aziraphale. And it moves Aziraphale’s heart. He feels new tears in his eyes, but hugs Crowley back as tightly as the demon is hugging him. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t fall. If I was meant to, I would have fallen already. I don’t think She cares about me and my stupid worries anymore…”  
“But I do. And I don’t want you to worry. I can’t lose you. I need you. I love you.”  
Aziraphale pushes back a little to look at Crowley’s face. He lifts a hand to push his glasses up onto his forehead.  
“You will never lose me. You waited 6.000 years for me. I would never risk what we have now.” 

Aziraphale kisses Crowley, and they lose themselves in this familiar feeling. It’s reassuring and feels safe.  
“I think we’re on the right way, then. Don’t you?” Crowley asks finally when their lips part. Aziraphale thinks about it for a moment. He wants to be honest, so he has to be sure he feels the same. They promised each other to address every issue now. No more pretending, no more silence, no more lies.  
“Yes. I think we’re getting better. But it will still take us time until we don’t hurt anymore.”  
“I don’t think the pain will ever go away completely.”  
“Probably not. But I’ll be fine as long as I have you.”  
“You had me for more than 6.000 years. You’ll always have me.”  
They share a smile. 

“Do you think you can drive again?” asks the angel and caresses the snake sigil on Crowley’s face.  
“Yeah. Even if I couldn’t, we can always count on my car. Get in, angel. I really need a glass of wine.”  
Aziraphale chuckles. “Lucky you I have stocked up on my red wine. And I have some olives and cheese in my fridge.”  
“Sounds good to me.”

The first bottle of wine is already empty, cheese and olives eaten. Crowley is sprawled on Aziraphale’s sofa, holding out his glass for Aziraphale to fill it up again. Aziraphale has just opened the second bottle and pours them both more of this rich deep red Malbec.  
“Thanks, angel…” Crowley has taken off his sunglasses and smiles at Aziraphale who sits down next to him again. Something seems to be on his mind. Before Crowley can investigate and ask him about him, Aziraphale takes a deep breath. 

“Crowley, I… wanted to talk to you about something.”  
Crowley is immediately alert. Aziraphale’s words sound ominous.  
“Have I done something?”  
“No, silly, you didn’t. It’s just… I thought about this for a while now. I didn’t want to bring it up after Anathema and Newton took Lilian in with them. And then we decided to travel for a while, and… Well, there is this room above my flat, an attic actually, no one uses it except for storage. I had this idea… We could open the roof, let in some light. If we insulate it properly and build in some big windows, it could be very nice for your plants.”  
Crowley looks at Aziraphale, he is speechless for a moment. What is the angel suggesting? Does he want Crowley to move in with him?

“I know, we wouldn’t have a balcony. And I admit that the view from your flat is spectacular with the Palace of Westminster and all. But it’s also very busy all the time with all the tourists. I thought you might like a bit more peace and quiet. Although come to think about it - Soho is not… not really quiet and peaceful. Anyway, we spend so much time together already, and it’s all really lovely. I could move some of my things, maybe throw out one thing or another. You can decide if you want a bigger bed. And I’ll make room in my kitchen for this monstrous coffee making thing you own, and -”

“Could you stop bloody talking for just a moment and let me say something?” Crowley interrupts. He sits up straighter and looks at Aziraphale, frowning, but with a grin on his face.  
“Hm? Oh, silly old me. I’m sorry. Go on.” Aziraphale blushes.  
“What are you trying to tell me here, Zira? Are you really asking me to… to move in with you? In your flat? Above your book shop?”  
“Well, yes. I thought it was obvious.”  
“You seriously want me with you all the time. Me between all your precious books. With my moods and my temper and my habit to turn into a snake and scare away your customers and -”  
“And with your humor and your love for me and your ability to cook and - yes, with your habit to turn into a snake and scare away my customers. Of course I want that.”

Crowley needs a moment to process this.  
Aziraphale isn’t sure why Crowley has fallen silent again, so he continues: “If you want to, you can of course keep your flat. If you need some time for yourself now and then. I understand. I know, I can be… a handful. But it would be lovely to share all of my life with you. And you still haven’t taught me to cook properly.”  
This last remark seems to pull Crowley out of his train of thought.  
“You don’t really want that,” he grins, “You very much enjoy to be pampered and cared for. And isn’t that my pleasure?”  
A smile spreads over Crowley’s face. Aziraphale really wants him to move in with him! 

“Have you really thought that through, though?” He puts his wine glass on the table before he reaches for Aziraphale’s hand.  
Aziraphale nods. “We wasted enough time already. I am not gonna waste any more.”  
A multitude of feelings is flowing through Crowley’s body. This is a development he had never dared to hope for. He is moved to no end, but tries not to show too much of his multitude of emotions. Aziraphale sees him swallow and smiles at him.  
“What do you say, then - foul fiend?”

This makes Crowley laugh and so allows him to keep his dignity. “If this is what you want - who am I to turn you down? You know I would never do that.”  
A smile brightens Aziraphale’s face, and Crowley’s heart is full of affection for him. Nobody would put up with his moods like Aziraphale. They have been through such a rough time lately, but Aziraphale is still with him, still loves him and is there for him - no matter what. 

“Yes, angel. Yes…” is all Crowley can manage, before he pulls Aziraphale into his arms and kisses him gently, his hands caressing the angel’s cheeks. But all too soon Aziraphale retreats from him. Excitement is bubbling up inside him, and he can’t contain it any longer. 

“I have so many ideas! Come on, I’ll show you the room! It’s all going to turn out so lovely!” Aziraphale grabs Crowley’s hand and pulls the demon to his feet. Crowley pretends to grumble over the haste, but follows nonetheless, silently smiling about Aziraphale’s enthusiasm. This will be a whole new phase of their existence. As long as they have each other they will be alright. And this will help them even more to find their way back to a happy life. They will still miss their daughter, but they are on a good way. They have eternity to spend with each other. They should make the best of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an epilogue coming, folks!
> 
> Whow... that's it for now, I suppose. I have thought about making this a series, maybe adding some chapters as stand-alones about Lilian growing up and of course centered on Crowley and Aziraphale. I have already started on some scenes, so keep an eye out for that. 
> 
> Thanks to everybody who joined me on this ride, thanks for every kudo and every comment. It's lovely to know that there are people out there who love these two characters as much as I do and wanted to read what I wrote about them. 
> 
> To the world!


	20. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, then... the epilogue and therefore last chapter. It was a wonderful ride with you. Thanks to everyone who has read this story. Thank you for every kudo and comment. Each and every one is very much appreciated. 
> 
> Lots of love!!!

Epilogue

They could just miracle everything to their liking but decide against it - to keep up appearances and just for the fun of it. Because of course they argue about the renovation of the attic. But it’s so much fun and distracts them when ever their thoughts return to Tadfield. When Crowley takes a first look at the attic he doubts they will be able to turn it into a decent space not only for his plants but also as a sanctuary should one of them need some time alone. Once they have cleared the attic from all the old stuff collected up there, Crowley hires some craftsmen to build in some big windows and to insulate the roof. Aziraphale suggests to just renovate the old wooden floor boards. Crowley toys with the idea of a concrete floor, but in the end fulfills the angels wish. And has to admit that the wooden floor boards are the much better choice. 

When the work is done both angel and demon are surprised how well everything has turned out. They have divided the space into two separate rooms that seem to be much bigger than they actually are, thanks to the big windows. Crowley has moved most of his plants up here into one of the rooms, but there is more than enough room left for a cozy sofa with a coffee table, a chest of drawers and some shelves for the books Aziraphale’s reading at the moment as well as a tv and a stereo for Crowley. In the end it’s the perfect amalgamation of both their styles. The other room is a little smaller and is actually turned into a guest bedroom. Neither of them says it out loud, but they both hope that Anathema and Newton could spend a night with Lilian now and then. Time will tell. Next on their agenda is a very special appointment: They have to attend a wedding. 

They have observed many weddings during their time on earth. But they have never been this close to the couple getting married - and they have never been witnesses. Newton has asked them both to be their witnesses. Aziraphale is so moved he is close to tears, while Crowley is just a little intimidated he has to play a major role in such an important ceremony. Anathema has in fact a big family, and there is no chance on earth for a private little ceremony in Tadfield. Since most of Anathema’s family live in the USA, they have chosen to let the wedding take place in California. 

Newton’s family is small - he only takes his mother with him to the USA. His parents have divorced a long time ago, and Newton has only very little contact with his father, so he sees no need to invite him to his wedding. Aziraphale tries to convince him otherwise, but not successfully. Mrs. Pulsifer has never been outside the United Kingdom, so she is more than excited about this trip. 

Anathema’s family has made all the arrangements for the wedding, has organized the party at the hotel where most of the guests will be staying and are all curious about Anathema’s husband to be, about the baby and of course the “good friends” she will bring to the wedding and who will be the witnesses.

It is the first flight for Mrs. Pulsifer. She sits with Newton and Anathema, while Lilian constantly switches from one lap to the other, occasionally to Aziraphale and Crowley, too. It turns out that taking such a long flight with such a small child is anything but easy. Lucky enough Crowley and Aziraphale are both determined to ensure an undisturbed flight without any delays and to make sure Lilian is entertained or tired enough to let everybody else have a relaxed flight. Other parents aren’t that lucky and have to deal with crying and unhappy babies or toddlers. And even school children can turn out to be massive dicks if you lock them up for too long inside an aircraft. At some point Aziraphale stretches his arms above his head as if just to stretch his spine and in a barely noticeable gesture miracles every child on board the plane into a content and mostly tired one which helps everyone on board immensely. 

Crowley and Aziraphale haven’t been to the USA for at least a century, and California has not really been on their agenda before. So it’s new to both of them and Crowley immediately likes it. He turns his face towards the sun and smiles as soon as he leaves the plane. He’s already looking forward to the ten days here in California. The only thing that worries him a little is the wedding. He is not really sociable and hopes Aziraphale will do most of the talking during this important day. But they still have some days left until the great day - time to get rid of the jetlag, too. He knows there will be rehearsals for the wedding they have to attend. But how challenging can this be? 

The whole wedding party is staying at the same hotel where the wedding reception will be held and the party will take place. Crowley has wanted to make the trip special for Aziraphale, so he has secretly upgraded their room to a spacious suite. He parades around in the hotel’s snow white bath robe until he finally leaves for their balcony and takes a sun bath - naked and glorious and beautiful under the California sun. Aziraphale stays inside, nose in a book, considering if they should visit the giant sequoias on one of the following days. 

The first time they meet the first members of Anathema’s family is… strange. They are descendants of Agnes Nutter and therefore some of them have special abilities, just like Anathema. Anathema’s mother is eyeing Aziraphale and Crowley up and down, suspicious and not very friendly when she checks out their auras and discovers what these two men really are. Anathema has to intervene and explain some details to her mother - but not telling her about Lilians heritage. It is agreed that Crowley’s and Aziraphale’s presence and their relation to Anathema and Newton won’t be discussed more than absolutely necessary, though of course they both know that there will be gossip once they are out of earshot. 

During this first meeting it’s the first time Aziraphale introduces Crowley to some family members as his husband which sends Crowley into a state of temporary rigour and then leaves him blushing and at a loss for words. Like always in situations like these he is more than grateful for his sunglasses… 

The rehearsals for the wedding go very well. Anathema and Newton organize the last details with Anathema’s family. More and more friends and family members arrive, and everybody immediately falls in love with little Lilian. Newton and his mother struggle a litte. They are not used to being part of such a big family. It will take them some time to adjust - and to learn all the names and relations between these many people. Together with some close friends of the family the whole wedding party will be around 80 people, which intimidates Newton, but he bravely tries not to show it. 

When the big day has come, even Aziraphale and Crowley are nervous. They have never played such a big role in any human’s life. Crowley takes the opportunity to wear a brand new suit that fits him perfectly and has even agreed to wear a tie for this special day. And he has convinced Aziraphale to try something new and has helped him choose a new suit, too, and a tie instead of his usual bow tie. In Crowley’s opinion he looks smashing while Aziraphale struggles with the concept of only two layers of clothing on his upper body. But the California sun will quickly convince him that this was a very wise choice. 

The ceremony takes place in the hotel garden. Everything is arranged beautifully. Anathema looks very different but beautiful in her white wedding dress. The boho style dress with long sleeves she has chosen makes her look ethereal. Her bridal bouquet is composed out of white freesias and jasmine. Newton can do nothing but stare at her, when Mr. Device walks his daughter down the aisle. 

Crowley and Aziraphale are of course needed to sign the papers, but Aziraphale also hands them their wedding rings. He smiles throughout the whole ceremony, and Crowley can’t help but adore him. During the ceremony Lilian is sitting on her new grandmother’s lap. Anathema’s mother has immediately fallen in love with her newly adopted granddaughter, and Lilian seems to like her, too. 

After everything is said and done, the papers signed, the engaged couple have kissed several times and everybody has congratulated, there is champagne for everyone. While the guests are busy talking, a photographer takes an (in Crowley’s opinion) extraordinary amount of photographs, and Crowley and Aziraphale as witnesses are on a bunch of the pictures, too. Crowley finds it exhausting to smile the whole time. He only manages it with Aziraphale’s help who constantly whispers praises and encouragements to him and holds his hand when ever possible. 

Finally it’s time for the celebratory dinner during which Crowley can hold Lilian for some time since he doesn’t want to eat much anyway and so gives everyone around the opportunity to eat. Aziraphale watches how Crowley feeds Lilian a jar of baby food Anathema and Newton have brought for her. Lilian makes a little mess, but Crowley doesn’t mind the stains on his trousers. He can easily miracle them away. But once Lilian has finished her meal she very obviously wants to be back in Anathema’s arms. Crowley and Aziraphale watch Anathema with Lilian. It still hurts a little, but it’s not that devastating pain anymore. In fact she looks like she belongs there, and that’s a good thing. 

Once Lilian gets tired, one of Anathema’s relatives takes her upstairs and to bed. The family has decided to take turns: every hour another family member will take over and stay with her so everybody else, especially Anathema and Newton, can enjoy the party. There is excellent food, there are some speeches and finally there is music and dancing. Crowley takes the opportunity to ask Anathema to dance, while Aziraphale just watches him with a smile on his face. The way the demon moves to music is mesmerizing. 

Later in the evening the music finally changes to something a bit slower, and Aziraphale gradually relaxes. Crowley looks at him, then offers him his hand.   
“Let’s take a little walk, angel.”  
Aziraphale doesn’t hesitate and follows the demon away from the party and into a part of the hotel garden that is less illuminated. At one point Crowley pulls Aziraphale onto the finely trimmed lawn and into the shelter of some big trees.   
“Dance with me,” he begs and pulls Aziraphale close before the angel can protest. They wrap their arms around each other. The music from the party is quieter, but still audible. Aziraphale closes his eyes and smiles when he feels Crowley’s cheek against his own. 

“Are you alright?” asks Crowley. His thumb caresses the back of Aziraphale’s hand.   
“Yes. It’s not my kind of music. I know you like it, though. And it’s a party after all.”  
“That’s why I wanted to dance with you.”  
“It’s -” Aziraphale wanted to say “nice”, but stops himself the last moment and instead says: “It’s marvelous.”   
“Yes…” Crowley breathes, and then adds: “Husband…” 

Aziraphale chuckles. “Maybe I was a little too fast forward, but I thought it was the best way to introduce us. Besides… that’s how I think about you. As my husband.”  
Aziraphale can feel Crowley’s breath hitch. “You do?”  
“Of course, dear. We don’t need any papers to feel that we belong to each other.”  
“If you put it that way…” Crowley presses a gentle kiss to Aziraphale’s lips and then adds: “I could get used to that term.”   
“Me, too.”  
Crowley pushes his glasses up into his hair, and they just look at each other while they sway to the music.   
“Do you want to marry?” Crowley asks after a few minutes, and that makes the angel smile.   
“Crowley, my dear, I think we are already married before the Almighty. If She had anything against our relationship She would have smitten us already. I’ve thought about it a lot lately. If our bond was against Her wish, it would have been from the very beginning. I think She gave Her consent when we met the first time. And since we’re together now like a couple, I also think She gave us Her blessing, too.”

“That would mean we’re the oldest couple in the whole universe since we’ve known each other for six thousand years. Is there a term for such a wedding anniversary?”  
Aziraphale laughs. “The 90th is called stone wedding. And that’s the last one. I doubt that somebody ever celebrated this wedding day.” He stops swaying and puts a hand on Crowley’s cheek.   
“What about star wedding? The stars are everlasting. Well, not really, we both know that. But I like the thought.”

Crowley’s golden eyes seem to glow in the semi darkness when he smiles, bends forward and kisses Aziraphale. “I like that, too.”  
They rest their foreheads together for a moment while they listen to the music and laughter from the party. Eventually Aziraphale kisses Crowley and then lets go.   
“We should go back. We’re the witnesses after all, we shouldn’t just vanish from the celebration.”  
“They don’t really need us there.”  
“Maybe not. But it wouldn’t be very polite.”

With a sigh Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hand. “Fine, then. I know how important this day was for you. But we’ll sleep in tomorrow and have the day just for us. This is a holiday, after all.”  
“I thought you don’t do holidays.” Aziraphale follows Crowley back to the path from where they came from.   
“I don’t work, so it’s no holiday. But you do.”  
“Oh, I see.” Aziraphale tries to hide his smile, but fails. They grin at each other, and before they arrive back at the party Aziraphale reaches up to put Crowley’s sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose.  
“There you go. We wouldn’t want a bunch of professional descendants stare at you.”  
“They stare at us anyway. At least the ones who know what we really are. Does it bother you?”  
“Not at all. I’m nothing but proud to have you as my husband.”

Crowley squeezes Aziraphale’s hand, and they step back into the light of the brightly illuminated part of the garden. The party is still going, Anathema dancing with one of her relatives. The music has already become faster again. Surely Aziraphale would call this bebop, too. Crowley’s gaze wanders over the party guests, and he finds Newton sitting next to his mother. He still looks a little out of place at his own wedding. Crowley decides he has to do something about this. He gives his angel a kiss and then saunters over to Newton.

“Hey - I haven’t seen you dancing all evening. Except for your one dance with Anathema.”  
Newton scratches his head. “Yeah, I’m not much of a dancer. Not very good at it.”  
“You’re just lacking practice.” Crowley secretly snaps his fingers, and the music changes to “A kind of magic” from Queen.   
“Come on!” Crowley takes Newton’s hand and pulls the surprised young man onto the dance floor. 

Aziraphale laughs, while he watches Crowley and Newton. Crowley’s a natural when it comes to dancing. His movements are smooth and sensual, and he looks stunningly beautiful with his dark attire and flaming red hair. At first Newton is a little unsure. But Crowley doesn’t let him go. He encourages him and makes him laugh, until he finally loses most of his insecurity, and he begins to enjoy the dance. Once he is more comfortable on the dance floor, Crowley subtly moves them over to Anathema, until the two newly weds are finally dancing together, having fun. 

After that a very smug Crowley comes back to Aziraphale who has taken his chair again and unceremoniously flops down onto his lap. The angel can’t suppress a surprised little squeal.   
“Well, husband, wasn’t that a good deed?” purrs Crowley while putting an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders.  
“A very good one, my dear,” replies Aziraphale and pulls Crowley into a loving kiss. “Shall we start recounting the deeds of our days to each other, hm?”   
Crowley growls. “Nah, please don’t. Does your lot do that, too?”  
Aziraphale chuckles. “I know it’s a sin. But some of us are really proud of their deeds and never tire to talk about them.”  
“Oh, let me guess - Gabriel, right?”  
“Among others, yes.”   
“Of course. Should have known.” 

Crowley turns to look at Anathema and Newton dancing and having fun.   
“Look at them…” he sighs and snuggles a little closer to Aziraphale, “As if they have no care in the world…”  
“They don’t at the moment. Just like it should be on your wedding day. They are happy, and Lilian will have a perfect family.”  
“Yes…” Crowley feels Aziraphale’s hand on his, and their fingers entwine. Crowley turns his attention back to Aziraphale.   
“Love you, angel,” he whispers, then bends down and finds Aziraphale’s lips. The angel happily kisses back.  
“And I love you, my foul fiend.”   
Crowley chuckles. This joke between them will never grow old. Then Crowley feels a little tingling sensation, together with something cool and smooth on his hand. With a surprised gasp he looks down at their joined hands. 

“Zira!”  
“Yes, my dear boy?”  
Crowley is breathless when he stares at the matching gold bands on both their ring fingers of their left hands that have just appeared out of thin air. The simple rings are shiny and flawless. The ring on Crowley’s finger is already warming from the heat of his skin.   
Aziraphale looks at Crowley, his blue eyes full of love. “Do you like them?”  
“Angel - I love them!”   
Aziraphale can’t be sure, because he can’t really see what’s going on behind Crowley’s sunglasses. But he thinks he can see the demon’s golden eyes shining a little more than usual.   
“It just occurred to me since I already introduced you as my husband that it would be nice to wear rings,” Aziraphale smiles.   
“Very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”   
They smile at each other, knowing that the love between them will last throughout the ages. They could sit like this forever, but are torn out of this moment when the wedding cake is brought out, and everybody applauds and cheers. 

Crowley begins to laugh. “Perfect timing. I’m very sure you’ll want some cake. Am I right?”  
Blushing a little, Aziraphale already licks his lips. He knows Anathema and Newton chose a red velvet cake with a delicious white chocolate butter cream filling. Everybody watches how Anathema and Newton cut the cake and share the first piece of it.   
“Alright, angel. I’ll get you some.” Crowley leaves Aziraphale’s lap with a wide grin. The angel watches, as Crowley goes over to Anathema and Newton. He is glad how everything finally turned out. They will both be alright. Watching Crowley smile and chat with the newly weds is relieving. Seeing Crowley happy again is more than he has hoped for. Life is going on, even an angel and a demon can’t stop that. But if they carry on like this, they will be fine. As long as they can be together.


End file.
